Little Intern
by iyoopyup
Summary: He was everything she aspired to become - successful, admired, even envied. And yet too soon, he became everything she wanted to run from.
1. Chapter 1: Punctuality

**A/N**: Well, this is my first Tomione story, and my first story written on this site actually. I've yet to get into the swing of things, but hopefully this story will have a couple of supporters :) Also, I don't have a beta reader, so I apologize for any mistakes you may come across.

**Disclaimer**: I wish I could be a millionaire who owns the wonderful characters of Harry Potter, but last time I checked, this is real life. So all the credits go to J.K Rowling.

Keep in mind that while this story is completely AU, I have done my best to stay true to the character's canon personalities, and you may find a lot of parallels/metaphors throughout.

- iYoopYup

* * *

It really was a miracle, how Hermione Granger – so young, so new to the medical world – managed to land an internship with renowned medical prodigy, Tom Riddle.

He had started off as a huge rumour among university students; the strapping young man who excelled in every aspect of his academic life, while still managing to remain but a beautiful mystery to his fellow classmates – he was perfection, really. And not a single person outside of his university had believed such rumours until his name had been printed in all the newspapers, until his image had been plastered on billboards, on magazine covers and on the walls of countless aspiring doctors.

And now, Miss Granger had the opportunity to work as his intern, to dive into the exciting world of medicine, to observe the very techniques that got him to medical royalty, to see those chiseled features and smoldering grey eyes up close-

"Oh God," Hermione muttered, mentally slapping herself. Tom Riddle was indeed attractive – anyone could see that. And Hermione was unfortunately one of many young women who couldn't help but smile at the thought of being in Dr. Riddle's good graces. But first and foremost, she had her internship to worry about, her entire career to worry about.

"He seems quite arrogant, doesn't he?" Ron Weasley asked bitterly, though it escaped as more of a statement. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, with his body slumped against one of the cushiony chairs of the café. "Thinks he's so great just because he finished medical school just a little earlier than everyone else."

"Becoming a successful cardiac surgeon at twenty-three? Even I'd be a little arrogant," Hermione replied. She swirled the remaining foam in her coffee and sported a small grin. "Don't know how he'd managed to do it, but he's quite amazing, isn't he?"

Ron noticed the flush in her cheeks and rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, 'Mione! Could you be any more in love with Riddle? Might as well slap a label on your forehead saying _Riddle's Groupie._"

"Funny, I always thought your eyes were blue – not green," Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowing at her freckled ex-boyfriend.

"I'm not jealous, Hermione," he stated, a little too matter-of-factly. Hermione squirmed awkwardly in her seat, quickly avoiding Ron's piercing stare. They had just gotten through an awkward break-up, more sided towards Hermione to say the least. As much as she cared for Ron, the spark had too soon died between them, and Hermione prioritized her career over the rekindling of…well, whatever they had.

"Sorry." Hermione took another shaky sip of her coffee and set it back down hesitantly as Ron watched her every move. "I guess I'm just a little anxious."

"I just want you to focus on the work is all," Ron said. "Don't get caught up in his supposedly smoldering eyes."

"You're hilarious Ron, really." Hermione glanced down at her watch and nearly choked on her own spit. "I'm late!" She had only a few more minutes to rush to Hogwarts Hospital, nearly halfway across town. Grabbing her worn-out messenger bag, she gave a quick goodbye to Ron and was on her way out.

_First day and you're already late? Pull yourself together, Granger!_

To Hermione's dismay, the eerie London fog had been accompanied by heavy showers. _Great. Now I'll be coming to my first day on the job while soaking wet. _Bracing her bushy hair in her hands,she took another quick glance at her watch and blew the stray strands of hair from her face, her heart beating out of her chest. She could make it, of course she could! Even still, Riddle gave the impression of being a patient, understanding man, right? He was probably in her place before – he should know what it's like to be in Hermione's current position.

Hermione wrapped shivering arms around her body as she turned another corner. _Almost there…_

* * *

"She's late." Tom Riddle sorted through the paperwork at his desk, his attention just barely on the old man standing before him. A drawn out sigh escaped his lips before he continued, "I thought she was supposed to be a star pupil. The fairly impressive grades on her transcript are meaningless lest she proves her initiative outside of the classroom."

"I would say that Miss Granger's grades are much more than fairly impressive. Besides, there are still a few minutes until ten o'clock." Dr. Dumbledore, the head administrator of the internship program, pointed swiftly at the clock by the door and let out a tired sigh. "Patience should be a key virtue in your field of work dear Tom."

"It is, sir," Tom responded, though half-heartedly, "But so is punctuality. Certainly, arriving late when a patient is in critical condition, for instance, should not be tolerated."

"Then you'll do well to remember the incident with Dr. Hagrid and young Myrtle, won't you?" Tom's lips pressed into a fine line until hearing the words escape Dumbledore's mouth. The old man surely loved to pick at every mistake made in Tom's life.

Tom cringed upon noticing Dumbledore's lip curl up slightly, as if he had already won this little banter. Still at a loss for words, he regrettably allowed Dumbledore to continue, "Yes, punctuality is indeed an important skill to have - which you will observe if Miss Granger arrives within the next two minutes."

Tom restrained from rolling his eyes at him. It was one thing to have this girl following him around the hospital like a Labrador, but for her to be late on her first day? He'd rather take the dog.

And couldn't Dumbledore place the intern somewhere else? Surely there are other doctors in Hogwarts that have much less important things to do than he. But of course, Tom Riddle had to be thrown in the pit of suffering just a little longer.

His eyes were stuck on the clock a little too often, his face filled with anxiety and irritation. What was supposed to be just two more minutes had suddenly turned into an agonizing eternity. Bloody hell, had Dumbledore cast some sort of spell to slow down the clock?

"Oh, is that the time then?" Tom said amusingly, smirking at the hour hand striking ten on the clock.

"Tom-"

"She's late, sir. I have better duties to tend to than deal with an incompetent intern." Tom neatly placed his files back onto his desk and stood, lightly brushing Dumbledore's shoulder on his way out-

…and into Hermione Granger.

* * *

"Right on time," Hermione said with a huff, trying her hardest to smoothen out a couple of fly-away strands. The rain had pelted her from head to toe by the time she had reached the hospital, drenching her clothes and bringing about quite the unpleasant smell. She took a whiff of her suede sleeve and cringed at the smell of it. _That vanilla perfume had better do me a solid…_

Her shoes sent an annoying squeak throughout the halls as she made her way towards Dr. Riddle's office, though the sound of her heartbeat and heavy breathing could easily compete with such noise. Was there really a need to be nervous anyway? After all, Riddle had been a student not too long ago – what was a two-year difference, really? Hermione did not have to feel as nervous as she did. She was hardworking, and determined, and focused.

Though perhaps her amount of focus could be improved on just slightly. As she swerved around the corner, a hard, yet comfortably warm body had collided into her.

"Pardon me, I-"

"You," the man, standing impossibly straight and tall murmured, "Are late, Miss Granger."

_Tom. I crashed into Tom Riddle - on my first day. _Hermione pulled away from him, her face flushed and heated, and as she glanced upwards, she could see an annoyed twitch in the corner of Riddle's lips.

Then upon finally processing his words, she lifted her wrist and took note of the time. Subconsciously, she lifted a brow in disbelief. "But sir, it's exactly-"

"When you were given your schedule Miss Granger, tell me, how did you interpret it?" Tom's voice was at a low, chilling tone. And though Hermione had already taken a small step backwards, Tom's breath still managed to tickle her skin, raising the frizzy hair at the back of her neck.

Hermione cleared her throat through an awkward cough. Then she cupped her hand over the back of her neck in an attempt to settle down her goosebumps, and spoke in a clearer voice, "I beg your pardon?"

"When the clock strikes ten, I expect you to have already walked into my office prepared to begin work, if not having already begun," he replied. "It is now two minutes passed ten, and what have you accomplished so far, little intern?"

Hermione leaned away slightly, her flushed face morphing into one of irritation and offense. There was no denying Riddle's intelligence, nor his status in the medical world, but to what condescending extent could she allow him to speak to her?

_Little intern. _Hermione nearly snorted.

Dumbledore, having listened to the entire exchange, slowly made his way over to the pair as Hermione finally responded to Tom.

"Actually, Tom-"

And she noticed his lips twitch again. A tingle of satisfaction ran through her as he replied in a rigid tone, "It would be in your best interest to address me as Dr. Riddle, _Hermione._"

"Ah, but you already seem to have gotten accustomed to addressing me on a first-name basis," she replied, a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. She could feel Tom let out another long breath, though this time she surprisingly felt no effect. Hermione Granger was not someone to so easily take advantage of.

"Hmm." Tom's features twisted, as if trying to control his self from ripping the frizzy hair springing from Hermione's head.

The same smile still remained on Hermione's face as she continued, "Anyway Tom, I hate to point fingers, but had you not taken the time to spew false accusations both on my punctuality and the status I have in this relationship, I-"

"Relationship?" Tom said, slightly amused. "And on that note what, pray tell, do you mean by your status?"

Hermione's cheeks heated up again. _It was the eyes! I blame it all on the eyes! _"That was a poor choice of words," she muttered.

"Were you solely referring to that particular part of this entire conversation? Or perhaps you mean to withdraw some of your earlier statements as well, _Hermione_."

"I-"

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice finally interjected. Hermione had finally managed to take in a full breath, taking a moment to get her unsteady heart back to normal. Tom suppressed a chuckled upon noticing the relief on Hermione's face.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Tom, then back to Hermione. Brushing lightly passed Tom, he leaned forward to Hermione and extended a welcoming hand towards her. "It's a pleasure to have an intern of such fine caliber here at Hogwarts," he said, and as Hermione responded to his handshake, he gave her a warm smile and added, "I aim to ensure that your experience here will be fulfilling and inspiring towards your future."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione bowed subtly and gave a gentle smile of her own. Though from the corner of her eye, she could see Tom, his patience obviously wearing thin.

Then Dumbledore leaned in closer to Hermione, subtly keeping Tom from peering around him and murmured, "Should any problems arise Miss Granger, you are welcome to inform me about them immediately. I put in a lot of effort to ensure the safety of the interns."

_Safety? _Just how dangerous was this job supposed to be?

"T-Thank you sir," Hermione repeated, though in a more hesitant voice. "I will do my best to follow proper protocol and avoid any accidents."

Dumbledore's expression suddenly grew grave, and his words came out in a near whisper, "That's not exactly what I was referring to." Then, straightening up and adjusting his collared shirt, he spoke firmer, "Good luck to you, Miss Granger. I suppose I'll leave you to Tom's hands."

Hermione nodded as she watched Dumbledore walk down the hall. _Such a nice man, though very peculiar_, she thought. Then a cold presence seemed to cloud her thoughts - cold, intimidating, and inching closer and closer to her.

"Miss Granger." Tom's voice came as an eerie whisper, "Have you lost focus already?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed before she turned to fully face him. "Tom-"

"_Dr. Riddle_."

"Tom, I take it that we've started things off on a little sour note," Hermione said. "And while I can't take back the words I've said-"

"You can't or you won't?"

"Does that really matter? Regardless, the words have been said, have they not?" Again, Hermione heard a strained hum slither through Tom's lips, a sound which she has already grown to quite enjoy. It was a subtle sound, but it meant that she had gained the upper hand. She extended her arm out towards him and said with just the slightest bit of sincerity, "Shall we start on a clean – or perhaps – only a scuffed slate? I think it'd benefit both of us if we try to let things sail smoothly from here on out."

And as she had uttered those words, her hand immediately dropped the moment she took note of Tom's face. It was…emotionless? No, there was some sort of emotion hidden behind that hard mask. There was amusement – no, anger – no – nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yet it was a chilling sight to Hermione's eyes. Such sight was completely different from Tom's pictorials in health magazines. This wasn't the Tom Riddle whom every girl in her classes had swooned over. He seemed…almost dark? Was this a normal thing for the other doctors and nurses to witness in the hospital?

Tom continued to stare at Hermione, with impossibly grey eyes and lips pressed, though just gently. A strange feeling began to brew in the pit of Hermione's stomach – God, why did Riddle have to be this young, and brooding, and-

_No. Attractive or not, he'd done you wrong, Granger. _Hermione found herself fidgeting with the cuffs of her coat, whilst still waiting for Tom to make any motion.

Then a thought clicked into her mind. "Tom," she began. This time the mention of his first name hadn't made a crack in his expression, though Hermione was expecting as much. "I understand that you may not wish to start anew, but I hope you know that in the moment you've taken to stare at me, unresponsive, you've wasted a good minute or so that could have been used to assign a task for me to do. And was well-spent time not a thing you had said to value?"

Finally, Tom's lips curved into a subtle smirk. Then in a smooth voice, he replied, "If I recall correctly, little intern-"

Hermione held back a cringe. _Call me that one more time, Riddle…_

"-I had only mentioned the idea of punctuality, and quite briefly, the idea of you receiving assignments from me on schedule." He took a step towards her, just enough to intimidate her a little further, and said in a low voice, "But let's get one thing straight, shall we?"

Hermione refused to take a step away from him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "And what would that be?"

"You're a bright pupil, or so I assume based on the abnormal amount of praise Dumbledore has given you. However, as of now you are _my_ intern, and-"

Hermione nearly snorted at him again. "I am also _your _responsibility – you are responsible for providing me with proper training and guidance, under _safe _conditions. And in addition to that, I deserve to be treated with respect unless Dumbledore says otherwise."

Tom let out a frustrated sigh. "You're very fond of interrupting people."

"As are you, Tom."

Another twitch of his lips. _Yes. Good on you, Hermione!_

"I'd like to alter your proposition and instead say that you will receive whatever respect you deserve. In other words, should you do so much as to speak to me the way you've been doing so for the past few wasted minutes, I will not treat you with the respect you _think _you deserve."

_Guess I took it a little too far with the first-name basis._

"And as I've said," Tom continued, "You are my intern. Your smart-alecky self is extremely fortunate to be given such an opportunity. There are plenty of aspiring medical students looking to get this kind of experience, so you should probably do your best to stay on my good side, Miss Granger. _I_ am the one who provides you with work. _I_ am the one who files weekly reports on you. And now, it seems that_ I_ am the one who can make or break your career."

"You can call me Hermione, if you'd like." Hermione nearly slapped herself right then and there after hearing her own voice. Though she hadn't meant for it to sound so bitter, the change in Tom's expression assured her otherwise.

"If I call you Miss Granger, I expect you to address me as Dr. Riddle," he replied. Then that same smirk crossed his face. "Or if you had really hoped to be on such a familiar basis with me in this…relationship, as you've so put it, I suppose you can call me Sir."

Hermione's lips parted slightly, and nothing but a nearly inaudible whimper escaped her lips.

Tom let out a low chuckle and said, "Judging by your unusual silence, I assume you're finally ready to work?"

Hermione nodded. And Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Miss Granger."

She nodded again, followed by an ever so timid, "Yes sir."


	2. Chapter 2: Disappointment

A/N: Wow, I actually got some positive reviews! Glad to know I haven't completely butchered their personalities. I've managed to write up this next chapter fairly quickly, though I'm not too sure how long it'll be until I can write the next one... Probably once midterm week has passed.

* * *

As Tom began to make his way through the halls, Hermione did her best to fall in line with him. She was at an awkward shuffle, however – the man's legs seemed to run on forever. Tom made no effort to slow down or wait for her, though Hermione assumed as such, what with how he reacted to their earlier conversation.

"Sir," Hermione said, all the while trying to match his steps, "Where are we going?"

"Another room in the hospital," he replied. Hermione would have rolled her eyes if he weren't so observant. Lord knows if he has another pair of eyes in the back of his head.

Tom looked over his shoulder just briefly, noticing a look of disappointment crossing Hermione's face. He smirked just before facing front again. "I don't suppose you enjoy surprises then, do you Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not entirely. I prefer being in the know." Which was absolutely true. Hermione took pride in being known as the know-it-all. She loved diving into good books, studying about the sciences, learning new information every day. Spontaneity wasn't exactly something to her liking.

"I assumed so," Tom said. Then he paused for a brief moment and added, "Shame, really."

"Oh? And why's that?" Hermione raised a brow, leaning forward just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. It was unreadable, a look she figured she had better be getting used to seeing. "I thought questioning and curiousity were key values in the sciences."

"They are," he replied, "But now I should expect to hear your countless questions from here on out and frankly, conversing with anyone really for long periods of time is not exactly something I'm fond of."

It made perfect sense, really. How else could Tom Riddle remain a mystery throughout his years in university? Certainly not by being Mr. Social.

"But you are aware that working in the medical field requires communication between both patients and colleagues, aren't you?" Hermione's question drew out a heavy breath from Riddle. His shoulders made an obvious rise and fall, and even from her angle, Hermione could see the tensing of his jaw.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am quite aware," he replied, with evident exasperation. "Now unless you have any questions that actually hold relevance to the furthering of your medical career, I suggest that you refrain from asking any more of them."

"But-"

"Relevant question?" Tom asked in a snipped tone.

"Relevant remark," she answered, just as firmly as Tom. "My previous question was in fact relevant. I was simply wondering of the skills required in this field of work."

Tom let out a strained laugh. Then he stopped by the elevator, punched in one of the buttons, and finally turned to face Hermione. "I do hope you try not to make a habit of constantly rebutting me, Miss Granger. You're only going to make a fool of yourself."

Hermione fell silent. Tom took it as a sign to continue, "You see, the purpose of your question was to see whether or not _I _understand the importance of a basic skill. It was made clear that you were already aware of its importance, and that you were simply doubtful of my own knowledge on the matter. Therefore, it held no relevance."

More silence.

"I'm sure you're a bright one, based on your transcript. However, do make an effort to think before you speak." The elevator doors slid open, and Tom made a gesture to welcome Hermione to enter first. "Ladies first," he said politely, though there was a condescending look about him.

Hesitantly, Hermione made her way into the elevator, arms crossed over her chest. Then the sound of squeaky shoes caught her attention, and she turned slightly to see a fairly young woman tucking a strand of blonde hair away from her face as she approached Riddle. _One of Tom's many admirers I guess, _Hermione thought. She'd then wondered: If Tom never really spoke much to his colleagues, just how much did they know about him personally? Would Hermione have a better chance at uncovering the mystery that is Tom Riddle?

Probably not - his arrogant self barely wanted to converse with her either.

"Good morning, Dr. Riddle," the woman said in a melodious – well, an attempt to sound as such – voice. Her clipboard was hugged so tightly to her chest, as if she had actually wanted to push her cleavage upwards to the opened v-neck of her scrubs. _Oh wait._

Hermione glanced at Tom, who too had noticed the woman's obvious gesture. The expression on his face had not wavered however, and Hermione oddly found herself smirking at the thought.

"Quite," he replied curtly. His hand remained firmly on the elevator door so as to keep it opened.

"Shame about the rain though, isn't it?" she asked. She lowered her clipboard and pointed at the splatter of water on her shirt. "It made my shirt a little too clingy."

That comment nearly had Hermione let out an annoyed groan. _That shirt sure is clingy, among other things._

"I suggest zipping up your coat fully the next time then," Tom replied. "Especially with such a neckline leaving your neck exposed – wouldn't want to catch a cold and spread it to the other patients, would we?"

The woman turned a deep shade of red, as if taking his remark as a compliment. "N-No, we wouldn't want that. Thank you for your considerate suggestion, Dr. Riddle."

"Good day, then," Tom said with a courteous nod. The woman flashed an eager smile at him before scurrying away. As soon as she left their sight, Tom sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sure you understand why I only like significant topics of conversation now, Miss Granger." He took a step inside the elevator and punched in the button to one of the lower floors.

Hermione looked up at him and asked, "You didn't even know her name, did you?"

"I believe that question isn't significant," he replied. But then a strange look grew on his face that came as a surprise to Hermione. Was it amusement? Or perhaps… it was somewhat of a smile? "But no, I tend not to put in an effort to learning names. I don't believe that nurse is even in my sector. And if she is of no use to me or my career, then she is practically disposable."

"And if she _were _in your sector?"

"Then I'd make an effort to stay on her good side, to 'woo' her, if you will," he replied, "Though only if she played any role in the development of my career. Most people here don't anyway, hence the lack of familiarity between my colleagues and I."

"What about the women who _are _in your sector?" Hermione asked.

"I'm very particular when it comes to who I work with, so all of my – or rather, the colleagues in my sector are male. You'd be the first female then, technically," he replied. There was a bit of regret and bitterness in his voice. Then it changed to that of amusement again, "Interesting how you only inquired on the females in my sector, Miss Granger."

Hermione fell silent again. It was a wonder how Riddle could so easily stump her, and even worse, how she'd set it up for him.

The elevator door slid open, giving Hermione a chance to dodge his implied question. "We're here," she pointed out, taking a hurried step outside the elevator.

"How observant of you," Tom said sarcastically. "Rather a poor excuse to avoid having to respond to my remark, however."

"I don't believe it was relevant to furthering my medical career," Hermione replied, mimicking the same tone he had previously used. Oddly enough, Tom gave a simple nod and began walking down the hall. He occasionally pointed out some of the rooms and facilities of the hospital – a utilities closet to the left, a care unit to the right, a washroom further down the hall and around the corner. Hermione took note of everything pointed out to her, though she couldn't help but find a distraction in the numerous eyes ogling Tom as they strode through the hospital. Some were old, some quite young, but all filled with admiration, and possibly lust, for the young surgeon.

Tom then opened the door to a small room near the end of one of the halls and invited Hermione to enter first. She slowly headed inside, wondering why they had walked so far to such a tiny room. After a quick look around, Hermione found practically nothing but a table, a few chairs, a fridge, and a coffee maker.

"Is this a break room?" Hermione asked, and before Tom could make the annoying reply she expected, she added, "And yes, this is a relevant question. I'd like to know what the break rooms look like when I start working in a hospital."

Tom pressed his lips together before responding. "Yes, it is."

"Is this the only one or something? Because we've walked a fairly long way for a room that looks, well, pretty shitty." Hermione walked towards one of the old chairs to sit, but Tom's immediate comment nearly startled her.

"Did I tell you to sit, Miss Granger?" he asked. Noticing her awkward stance, he added, "I believe you said you were ready for work."

"I am, but-"

"Then follow me," he said sharply.

_Was that not a significant question? _Hermione thought. She followed him over to the coffee maker sitting atop of the old counter and frowned slightly. What was being in this room supposed to do to help her gain experience in the medical field?

"You'll be spending a good amount of your time in here, so it'd be best to have you test this out now," Tom said, fiddling around with the coffee maker.

"I… I am?" Hermione's brows furrowed as she looked at him. "Doing what?"

"Making coffee," he replied simply.

Then a strained laugh erupted in the room, and Hermione crossed her hands over her stomach. "You can't be serious!" she said after he laughter had begun to die down.

Though Tom didn't seem as amused. He leaned forward towards her and rested a hand on the counter. "I'm very serious, Miss Granger. High grades or not, you have yet to prove to me that you can handle dealing with work out in the field. So until that day comes, when you are not reading over paperwork, you are to be down here, making me coffee before I return to my office at certain points throughout the day."

"That's…" Hermione felt her blood boil. All of that hard work, slaving over her heavy textbooks, those sleepless nights in preparation for her tests, all for a job as Tom Riddle's personal barista? "That's not fair!"

"Relevant tip for you, Miss Granger," Tom said with a smirk. "Life isn't fair. Here's an example for your curious mind as well: I hadn't volunteered for this internship program. Dumbledore forced me into it, knowingly full and well that I have much more important matters to deal with. Now that's certainly unfair, if you ask me."

"So you feel the need to take out your bitterness on me?" Hermione asked, appalled. "And by what? Having me fetch a stupid cup of coffee for you every day?"

"Miss Granger, I will allow you a second to compose yourself."

"No, Tom! You-"

Then in that brief second, Hermione could have sworn she saw a bright shade of red flicker in Tom's eyes. She took a step away from him, backing up into the refrigerator. But Tom mimicked her motions, moving forward for every step she took back. Then as he reached within inches of her, his hand on the counter slid further until it rested near Hermione's side. He then said in a low voice, "_Tom_? Have you forgotten the rules so soon, little intern?"

Hermione inhaled sharply and tilted her head upwards. "My name is Hermione – _not _Little Intern."

And as if matters could not possibly grow worse, Tom had reached up to Hermione's chin, holding it firmly between his thumb and index finger. Hermione's eyes widened, though on Tom's face was nothing deviating from a sinister smile.

"An interesting pupil you are, Hermione," he murmured, his warm breath dancing gently along Hermione's lips.

Hermione's eyes travelled to the door, as if she could actually slip through Tom's hold and make a run for it. But instead, she looked at him, eyes wide, and asked shakily, "Are other people allowed in here, Dr. Riddle?"

He grinned slightly and muttered, "Not unless I give them permission. Usually I don't." Then he slowly released her from his grasp and took a step back.

Hermione exhaled, as if that little exchange had sucked out all the energy in her. She looked at Tom, whose focus was already on the coffee maker in front of him, and gulped nervously. This was _not _the admirable doctor whom everyone adored and aspired to be. The man on the billboards, and magazines, and all over the news was a fake. He was but a mask of this frightening, intimidating version of Tom Riddle. And what more lay behind that mask of his? Surely Hermione had not even seen past the first layer of this man.

"I…" Hermione choked on her own words, and a shaky finger pointed at the coffee maker as she spoke, "…So how does this work?"

Tom smirked at her before pointing out all of the buttons on the machine. It was all very easy to handle, and Hermione could have learned the functioning of it on her own. But clearly she wouldn't dare to say that to Tom in his current state.

"And I take it without sugar," he added after his explanation of the device. "Easy enough, Hermione?"

She wanted to cringe just hearing her own name escape from his lips now. _Why did I have to work him up this way? Just to prove a point? Nice going, Granger._

"Yes," she replied, and upon quickly realizing her mistake, added, "…Sir."

A brief moment of silence fell upon them, though in it was an amount of tension so high that it made Hermione's stomach churn. She had told herself not to get so distracted, to focus solely on her work. But what could she possibly do if her only job was to read over some (probably useless) paperwork, and fetch Dr. Riddle his daily dose of coffee?

_Here's an idea: You can stare at those beautiful grey eyes, those-_

_No. Stop that, Hermione._

Riddle was dangerous, in more ways than one. Dumbledore had even given her a personal warning. Yet Hermione's current problem was not to learn to play it safe. She had to fight, she had to take risks and stand up for her self, to take Riddle's overly arrogant attitude and shove it up his arse… right?

_I am the one who can make or break your career, _he had said earlier. And that single statement made Hermione's head spin. To prioritize good morals or her career – that was her main issue. And everything seemed to wrap around Tom.

"Hermione." Tom's voice came as a gentle ring to her ears, though it had still managed to chill her bones on end. "Are you daydreaming?"

Then her head finally cleared of its conflicting thoughts for the time being, and she shook her head. "No, sir."

"Really?" he asked. "Because you've been staring at me for quite some time now."

"I…um…" She nibbled on her lower lip, and on a strange instinct, reached up for his hair. She made a quick motion, as if to pull something out of it, then immediately withdrew. "You had something in your hair. It was bothering me."

The newly formed expression on Tom's face startled Hermione. While she expected him to blow up into a fit of rage for even daring to touch him, it looked almost as if he were about to laugh.

But the laugh never came. In a matter of seconds, Tom had managed to switch the near cheerful look into another one of his smirks. "You are definitely something, Miss Granger. Certainly not the best liar, but you are something."

"I'm sorry for losing focus, sir," Hermione muttered.

"You'll make up for that one way or another, in the near future perhaps," he said in a composed voice. And while that statement should have come across as harmless, Hermione already knew there was something twisted being calculated in his mind.

"And in case you were wondering, I don't expect you to make coffee for me right now," he added. "We are currently running short on time, and I've prepared some paperwork for you to read over in my office for now."

"Dr. Riddle!" a voice echoed outside the break room. Hermione took a quick glance at Tom, took note of the brief rolling of his eyes, and stared at the door. A young man, clad in green scrubs with a surgical mask around his neck entered. Hermione marveled at his shiny, platinum blond hair, then took a moment to look at her own brown locks and frowned.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Tom said sharply. "Did you break something again?"

"Y-You're needed in the ICU, sir," he replied through shaky breaths. "You were expected to be in your office with the intern, having already shown her around the hospital. They tried looking for you, but I figured you'd be in here so I-"

"So you barged in, without even knocking," Tom said in almost a hiss.

"They were rushing me, sir! It was Lestrange and the others!" Malfoy stuttered. "I'm sorry if I interrupted something!"

"As a matter of fact, you interrupted a very important conversation between Hermione and I." Before Hermione could get the chance to contradict him, Tom shot her a threatening look and immediately shut her up.

"I apologize sir, really!" Malfoy's eyes widened, and Hermione felt a sudden hint of guilt, as if she were responsible for Riddle's treatment towards him.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "They're all waiting for me in the ICU, then?"

"Yes sir, for several minutes now."

Tom looked over to Hermione, then said, "Then you are to bring Hermione back to my office. Ensure that she reads over the stack of paperwork on the _right _side of my desk. Not on the left, nor anything inside, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"We'll further discuss your internship another time, Miss Granger." After Hermione responded with a light nod, Tom straightened his uniform and headed out the door.

The blond looked at Hermione, eyeing her up and down before asking, "So you're the star pupil, huh?"

"I guess so," Hermione shrugged. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Abraxas Malfoy," he replied, though he made no effort to offer her a handshake. In no mood to make conversation, he made a gesture at the door and said with a sigh, "Come on then. Let's go."

Hermione managed to keep up with Abraxas' quick but short strides – he was a good length shorter than Tom, with shorter, scrawnier looking legs. She figured he was just a few years older Tom and assumed that working under Tom's conditions would have taken a toll on his body, yet he looked youthful, and was nearly as attractive as Tom.

Once inside the elevator, Hermione finally broke the long silence. "So you work for Dr. Riddle?"

"Dr. Riddle and I are very close friends," Abraxas replied confidently.

_Then why aren't you allowed to call him Tom? _Hermione thought.

"Are you really?" she asked doubtfully.

Abraxas then turned to face her directly, narrowing his eyes. "You believe otherwise?"

"No, it's just that back in the break room you looked a little-"

"Keep in mind that you're only an intern here, kid," he said, his voice cutting and arrogant. "In fact, Dr. Riddle has constantly made his complaints to me about you. So if you want to remain on his good side, you should probably try to stay on mine as well."

For some reason, Hermione couldn't bring herself to believe his words. Judging by how fearful Abraxas had looked under Tom's presence earlier, she knew he was probably fooling himself with his own lies.

"I see," Hermione replied, unsure of what to say otherwise. She followed him into Tom's office and took a seat on the opposite side of his desk, staring at the piles of paperwork.

Abraxas then dropped a small pile in front of her and pointed at it, "Well, go on. Read 'em. Not too sure when Dr. Riddle will be finished with his current patient, so just make sure not to leave this room."

"And if I have to use the restroom?"

"You should have used it before coming here," he said with a smirk. "Enjoy your stay while it lasts, intern." Abraxas laughed mockingly before leaving Hermione alone in the office.

Sighing to herself, Hermione held up the first paper in the pile. "_Headaches – An Easy Guide to Self-Diagnosis_," she read. Then she rolled her eyes, cursed herself for believing this internship would do her any good, and dropped her head onto the desk.


	3. Chapter 3: Facade

A/N: So thankful for the wonderful reviews I've been receiving :) Just to address some reviews, I am trying to improve how I write the exchanges between the two, as I too have noticed a lack of that usual (sexual?) tension compared a lot of other Tomione stories. And in terms of the length of the chapters, the chapter length of my previous stories have never gone beyond 3000, so trying to hit the bigger thousands will be a challenge. Though if most readers prefer longer chapters (and I find that it fits with the flow of the story) then I guess I'll try harder to write lengthier chapters.

On another note, do you prefer the author's note to be at the beginning or end of each chapter? :p

* * *

Tom never returned to his office even once before Hermione's sign-out that day – the news had easily travelled amongst both doctors and nurses that Tom had to work overtime on a patient in critical condition. And after hours of reading about diagnosing headaches, diagnosing the common cold, and exploring the fine world of skin rashes, Hermione left Hogwarts Hospital without uttering another word to Dr. Riddle.

At a common room in Kingston University, Hermione slouched on one of the sofas across from her closest friend, Harry Potter. "A total waste of a day. Now I'm actually relieved that I only have to go to the hospital two days a week," Hermione said with a sigh. She tossed a tennis ball over the coffee table towards him.

A soft chuckle slipped from Harry's lips as he caught the ball. He had a chance to join Hermione in the internship program, but a poor mark on his admissions test kept him stuck at the university. "How was your wonderful mentor anyways?" he asked, then out came another laugh. "Ron's been complaining about him all day."

"_Dr. Riddle_," she began, the name slipping out bitterly, "Isn't exactly the kind of person everyone makes him out to be. Utterly pompous, he is. And the way he just-"

Hermione bit her lip, rethinking the last statement she was about to make. _The way he just took control, held me trapped, threatened me even, _she thought. But if she were to tell Harry just that, he'd try to convince her to drop the internship in a heartbeat. She couldn't let that happen. No, she wouldn't. She needed this internship, and if Dr. Riddle stood as an obstacle to her, then she'd just have to find a way around him.

And she could certainly do it on her own.

"He just, what?" Harry looked concerned as he uttered the question. "What, Hermione?"

"He just…just… He treats me like I'm an incompetent little schoolgirl!" she said. There was still some truth behind her statement, after all. She threw her hands up in the air before catching the tennis ball tossed back her way and added, "As if a two-year gap makes him that superior over me."

"Well I mean he has quite the resume, doesn't he?" Harry replied. "And Ron sort of, er, told me of your excitement earlier – how even you'd be a little arrogant with that kind of accomplishment, and how amazing he is?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, partially at the thought of Ron sharing their conversation with Harry, partially for having believed Ron would actually keep it from Harry, but mostly for having uttered such praise for Tom Riddle at all.

"Mind you, I didn't think he'd be _that _arrogant," she said with a snort. "I spent hours reading about the most mundane things. As if we never learnt how to treat a headache or a silly scrape on the knee before."

"How confident of you," Harry chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "You, uh, also said he was amazing."

"Harry!" Hermione through one of the nearby pillows at him and narrowed her eyes.

"I just reiterated whatever Ron told me!" he said, bracing his self. But Hermione's sharp throw had him struck square in the face by the pillow. He shoved the pillow off him and put some stray hairs back into place before he asked, "He wasn't lying though, was he?"

Hermione sighed. "No, he was telling the truth," she murmured. She did think he was amazing. She _did_. Because just within her first day on the job, she could easily see that Tom Riddle was far from amazing. He was absolutely brilliant considering his accomplishments, both in his career and in his ability to so easily manipulate people, but the man surely was not amazing. In fact, he was downright haughty - and perhaps even a little suspicious.

Harry looked at her with a sincere smile, walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to feel ashamed, Hermione. I mean, no one can really judge a person without having met them personally, right?"

"I suppose," she muttered, and her head instantly lowered to Harry's shoulder. "I just wish I hadn't wasted my time blindly admiring him like everyone else."

"It _is_ hard to resist those beautiful grey eyes though, isn't it?" Harry said with a playful grin. It earned him another cold stare from Hermione.

"Oh, of course," Hermione answered sarcastically, but not without a slight hint of truth to it.

* * *

"She sure has an attitude on her, doesn't she sir?" Abraxas stood before Tom, hands folded neatly behind his back. "She speaks as if she's above everyone else here," he added.

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes; Abraxas had made his bitterness over the new intern a little too evident. "Perhaps," he replied, "Though she poses no threat to me."

Abraxas smiled proudly at his colleague. There was no doubt that Tom would allow the new girl to walk all over them. "I don't see how she could considering the facts. I mean, you're brilliant sir and-"

"If you so desire to flatter me constantly, I'd prefer if you at least attempt to phrase it differently each time, Malfoy," Tom said with a sigh. "In any case, I trust you gave Miss Granger the papers on my desk to look over?"

"Of course, sir," Abraxas replied confidently. "Might I say, it was genius of you to give such dreadful work to read over. I mean, you could practically hear her hopes dying as she saw that first article on headaches. Serves her right for thinking she'd immediately get to work in the field with us, right?" He sported another proud grin, though it soon diminished after seeing Tom's face twist to an abnormal expression.

Tom's eyes finally locked onto Abraxas, his attention fully on the topic at hand. His voice came out in a near whisper, "What did you say?"

"I said that it serves her right-"

"The papers, Malfoy," Tom said abruptly. "What of the papers?"

"The article, sir… on headaches? It was the first one in the pile you gave." Abraxas gulped nervously as the hands behind his back squeezed tightly together.

Tom's lips pressed into a fine line, the corner slightly twitching. Then he stood slowly from his chair and made his way over to the evidently tense nurse. The echoing sound of his black shoes tapping against the floor, and the subtle movement of his jaw nearly frightened Malfoy.

"What were my exact instructions to you, Malfoy?" Tom hissed upon stopping in front of the fidgeting blond. "Go on, tell me."

Abraxas brought his hands to the front of his body, clasping them tightly together as he murmured, "T-To give the intern the papers on the right side of your desk."

"So you assumed I meant _your _left. You thought I was referring to _your _side of the desk, when clearly I organize papers according to how I sit on _my _side. Am I correct?" Tom's expression never faltered as he spoke.

"Well, I guess," Abraxas said with a slight stutter. _How unreasonable of him, _he thought – but he'd never tell Tom that. "But I thought-"

"Had we not established your position in our – oh, how do you so often refer to it as when speaking to other people – friendship?" The question drew a malicious grin from Riddle, and he nearly laughed at the thought of having a genuine friendship with Malfoy. Did the poor nurse even think he was worthy of being considered an equal to that of Riddle? In fact, anyone would be mistaken to think they had a chance at drawing any form of care or even sympathy from the young surgeon.

"We have, sir," Abraxas replied with a nod.

"So when I tell you to take a file from the left of my desk, what do I mean?"

Abraxas couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness and anger to accompany his fear. Had Riddle not been clearer on whether he meant the side in which he sits or not, then maybe-

"I'm sure you were preparing to say that I meant myside of the desk, but you were too busy forming insults about me in your head."

Abraxas' lips parted slightly, then he spewed out shakily, "What? N-No sir I would never-"

"You would, Malfoy," Tom said. "You see, I'm well aware of your true intentions of following me around like a lapdog. And while the compliments seem to flow effortlessly out of you, we both know that I never take them to heart, as much as you hope they do."

And so Abraxas accepted defeat - but that was how it always worked. He'd make a mistake, try to fix things, and eventually accept whatever ridicule or punishment Tom had prepared for him. Because though Tom would never allow Abraxas to surpass him, the association alone to the successful surgeon would push Abraxas further up scale.

Abraxas' attention shifted to the locked drawer of Tom's desk. The image of that tiny box inside of it - that damned box - popped into his mind, and he shuddered at the thought. "Which is it this time, sir?" His voice shook at nearly every word, his eyes still fixed onto the closed drawer.

Tom smirked at the sight of his pathetic 'friend.' Oh, how interesting dear Abraxas made his job. "Perhaps just vial 2 for today. We wouldn't want to waste anything too strong on such a…minor offense, I suppose."

"_Just _vial 2, sir?" Abraxas asked in disbelief.

"Would you like a different vial, Malfoy?"

"N-No sir!" Abraxas replied. "Thank you, sir."

Tom could easily hear a sigh of relief slip from Abraxas' lips and shook his head contemptuously. "It would be of your own benefit to work on that fear of yours. And while I do appreciate it to some extent, it does get tiresome having to hear your pathetic pleas all the time."

"I apologize, sir." Abraxas bowed at a near ninety degrees before lifting his head back up to meet Tom's smirk.

"You're dismissed then. You are to pick up the vial before you leave tonight," Tom said. He made his way back to his desk, and upon planting himself back into his chair, added, "Check on Avery and Lestrange before you go home. See to it that they've made their required collections for the day."

"Yes sir." Then following another bow, Abraxas rushed out of the office.

As the door creaked shut, Tom leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. It really was a pain in his arse, having to deal with people so inferior to him. There was some assurance in the sense that no one could take his position from him, but it also meant that only he could fix all of the mishaps caused by his colleagues. And oh, did they cause a lot.

Tom needed something. He was missing something. Like a missing piece to a puzzle, he needed something in order to follow through with his plans. It wasn't enough to have the fearful Malfoy boy and the other nurses – they hadn't managed to contribute anything mentally to his project as of yet. To him they were just physical beings. Replaceable, disposable, physical beings – but they were all he had to work with at the moment.

Drawing in another deep breath, Tom looked at the papers on his desk, all organized into neat piles as usual. Then his eyes caught something on the far side of the mahogany. There lay the papers accidentally given to Hermione. But all over the pages were pen markings.

Immediately, Tom reached for the page on the top of the pile and scanned it. He expected it to be covered in pointless doodles and scribbles, but oh, no - the Granger girl had made notes all over the article. It appeared as a light article to most, simply an overview of headaches and migraines, but written between the lines and squeezed in the indents and margins were insightful notes written by the obnoxious little intern. Inquiries, hypotheses, comments, highlights that were, dare he say, helpful to him?

_'A common misconception.' _

_'Important to note the connection to paragraph two.' _

_'Key factor.' _

_'Irrelevant paragraph.'_

"Noteworthy point…" Tom muttered to himself as he read through one of her comments. And then another, "Ah, that _would_ pose as a problem…"

He then reached for the other papers, skimming through each page individually, and on every page were her notes. Though written in surprisingly atrocious handwriting, the intern's thoughts were quite… indispensable.

"Perhaps it was good to let Malfoy go with a light punishment," he mumbled, eyes still locked on the papers in front of him. Though it was always fun to see the skinny blond beg for mercy.

After setting the papers back down, he tapped his pale fingers against the desk as his eyes swept over to her original pile of readings. He had to change his plans. He had to get Granger to grow to like her job, to like _him. _Otherwise, he'd lose a crucial factor in his project. He shook his head lightly, almost regretting just how absurd the thought of already placing Granger's worth above Malfoy and the others was.

The new kid had already earned herself a promotion.

* * *

Three days after her first day of the internship, Hermione still could not believe how Riddle managed to deceive everyone for such a long time. She huffed, fixing the collar of her blouse before knocking on Riddle's door.

She heard the faint sound of Tom's voice on the other side, "Enter."

But as her hand hovered above the knob, she noticed Dumbledore approaching her from down the hall. He glanced at his watch and smiled at her, saying, "Good morning, Miss Granger. I see you've taken Dr. Riddle's suggestion to arrive a little earlier to work?"

"Well, I don't doubt that I hadn't exactly made the best first impression on him," she replied.

_Enter, _the voice repeated. Hermione winced at the evident frustration in his voice.

Dumbledore looked at the door and shook his head. Then with a faint smile, he said, "Young Tom is always the impatient one. Don't be too intimidated or affected by that aspect of him."

"Are you implying that I should be wary of other things, sir?" she asked, and there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

"We should always try to be aware, Miss Granger," he replied. "Some more than others, but still it is good to be aware." Then his eyes wandered for a brief moment before asking, "How was the work on Monday? Hopefully it was engaging enough."

Hermione pondered over the thought. The work was indeed boring, for lack of a better word. She had tried to make the best of it by critiquing the articles, making little notes here and there, but still she had wished for something a little more challenging. She doubted if Dumbledore even had a clue about her barista job. Maybe if she showed Tom just how determined she was, he'd think twice about giving her more consideration.

The door of Tom's office swung open, and Hermione came face to face with an irritated surgeon. There he stood, clad in perfectly tailored trousers, and a black dress shirt underneath an open white coat, and Hermione nearly slapped herself for paying so much attention to the way it all seemed to fit him.

Then her eyes focused on his dark expression, and she was reminded of how annoyed she was with Mr. Arrogant.

"I'll leave you to your work then, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. He turned to Tom, looked him sternly in the eye and said, "Dr. Riddle."

"Dr. Dumbledore," Tom responded just as stiffly.

"Fine day today," he pointed out. "It would be nice to take a stroll outside. Surely better than being in the office all day."

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly before responding, "That's a nice thought, sir, though I must admit, I've grown to fairly enjoy working in my office."

"I was merely giving a general thought dear Tom," Dumbledore said, and his lips curved to a seemingly sincere smile. "Good day to you both." Then he turned on his heel and headed to a nurse calling him from the end of the hall.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Tom greeted. "I trust you've had a productive few days at school?"

_Much more productive than here, _she thought.

"I suppose," she said with a shrug. "So what am I reading today then?"

"You sound unhopeful," Tom pointed out. He couldn't have Hermione being completely disconnected from the job; he needed for her to be alert and willing to add her notes to the new articles.

"I just… Sir, I'd just like…" Her voice trailed off with ever phrase. What would he say if she criticized the work her gave her again? He controls her fate in this job, technically. So she gave up. "I'm just a little tired," she lied. "I stayed up late studying last night."

To her utter shock, Tom had reached out towards her again, similarly to the day he had gripped her chin so intimidatingly. Hermione leaned backwards, her face filled with discomfort.

Tom's lips curved up and he said, "Relax, Hermione."

He placed his hand gently on Hermione's cheek before slowly swiping his thumb at the top of her cheekbone. And while she expected the pads of his fingers to be calloused from being at constant work, she found his touch to be soft, mesmerizing even, to an extent. But her eyes would lock onto his dark ones, those dark orbs with some hidden secrets swimming through them, and her own eyes would widen in fear of his intimidating proximity.

His smirk still remained as he murmured, "Your eyes are very much alert. I don't see much puffiness either."

Then Hermione drew in a sharp breath and placed her hand over Tom's, much to his surprise. She grew to enjoy the very rare moments where Tom's face showed obvious confusion. Her warm hand slightly shivered against Tom's cold one, and she quickly removed his hand from her cheek as she said firmly, "Thank you for the diagnosis then."

Tom took a step back from Hermione and ushered her inside his office. "You're fairly early by the way," he said, heading towards his desk.

"Yes, well I wasn't in the mood for arguing with you today," she replied. Before taking a seat opposite of Tom, she looked at him intently and asked sharply, "May I sit now, sir?"

Tom's lips curved crookedly. "You may."

She cleared her throat and straightened her blouse before taking a seat, avoiding Tom's eyes that seemed to be watching her every move. She shifted awkwardly, placing her hands on her lap until she finally looked up at him.

"What exhilarating topics will I be reading about today?" she asked, immediately regretting the obvious sarcasm thrown into her speech.

"While you wish to refrain from the bantering, I don't particularly appreciate your excessive sarcasm," Tom said. "Regardless, you do deserve my appreciation for the work you've done on Monday. The notes you made on the articles were more than adequate."

"Good to know I'm slightly above average, I guess," Hermione muttered.

"Hermione," his voice came out surprisingly gently. He stood, making his way around the desk until he leaned against it and faced her. He rested his hands on the edge of the desk, and his head leaned slightly forward in closeness to her. "While working under me, you should note that I'm not one to throw compliments around so easily. Abraxas throws enough around for the both of us. Perhaps enough to include my other two colleagues, actually."

The statement garnered a slight smile from Hermione. Then came a light laugh, a gentle, melodious laugh, to Tom's satisfaction. He had to get her to enjoy working for him, and to _want _to do the seemingly boring work, after all.

He continued, "So do not take certain things I say for granted. Rarely would you even find me giving Abraxas a simple pat on the back for doing well on an assignment."

Hermione's smile remained, but she couldn't help her suspicions from rising. She had already seen part of Tom's true form, and so she recently found it difficult to believe his sudden acts of sincerity. Maybe if she were to play along with this little act of his however, she'd be able to uncover more of him than he would expect of her.

"I do hope that I'm not as much of a disappointment as you had expected then, Tom." She prepared herself for a darkened look from him for addressing him as such. But she had to test the waters to see just how much Tom actually appreciated her intelligence. Would he appreciate it enough to let her call him by his first name?

Observing his face intently, she waited for the twitch of his lips, that subtle but sure sign of his irritation – but it never came. _He's just a good actor, that's all._

"On the contrary Hermione," he said, and her name slipped so naturally from his lips that she actually felt a pang of guilt for having uttered his name so sharply, and with an intended tone of mockery. She met his eyes and found no mischief in them as he said, "While you did give an… unexpected first impression, your work speaks of other truths, noteworthy truths."

Hermione leaned forward, resting her chin against her knuckle as she sported a tiny grin. "You're being awfully thoughtful today, aren't you?" Her voice sounded as smooth as she could possibly make it. It was only fair that she try to balance out all the grease Tom had been emitting.

* * *

Tom nearly shook his head in disappointment of the intern's efforts. Was she really trying to swoon him? No, only Tom Riddle could win at that game. As much as Granger wanted to be in the know, as she had so put it, Tom couldn't allow her to get inside his head and turn his plans around.

"I told you that you'd get the respect you deserve, didn't I?" Tom said. He took a quick glance at the clock and noticed they had already passed their start time. _No, I mustn't show her any anger. _He took a deep breath. _She has to stop questioning my every statement though! _Another breath. Then he added, "Anyway, we're now running late unfortunately."

The girl bit her lower lip. "You must be upset."

"Very." But as Hermione scanned his face, all she could go by was the ever so popular smirk, just as he intended.

"Sarcasm?" she inquired.

_Of course not you inept-_

"Possibly," he said, forcing a humorous grin. Then the Granger girl smiled, and he found himself at a loss again. Because he too, was…smiling?

Her next statement surely caught him off guard. "You must get complimented on your smile a lot," she said. But as he looked at her, she seemed to be just at a loss for words as he was. Flushed face, widened eyes – poor girl must have said it subconsciously.

In any case, it was an advantage to him. She was in a vulnerable state, a confused state more so than he, and so he could play off the new awkward presence between them quite well.

"On the rare occasions when I do smile, Hermione." He lowered his voice to a soft murmur, and leaned forward so as to reach eye level with the flustered intern.

Then her eyes seemed to soften, her face changing to that of a guilty one. "You don't find happiness very easily." She said it as more of a direct statement rather than a question.

_God this girl is just wasting my time- _

"It's… I have difficulty in finding happiness in common senses." He made voice slightly cracked at just the right moment, enough for Hermione to shift uncomfortably in her seat again. There was a sudden look of doubt swimming in the young girl's eyes, as if she were reevaluating her previous judgments of him. Tom refrained from smirking

Still at level with Hermione's eyes, he rested a hand on her arm and said softly, "Don't think too much on it. It really doesn't affect me too negatively."

"It doesn't," she repeated. It seemed as though she were repeating it for her own sake rather than his, like she were trying to convince herself of the truth behind his statement.

So in turn he replied with a shake of the head, "It doesn't."

Hermione lowered her head as if pondering over her recently gained knowledge. Tom took that small window to look up to the ceiling and press his lips together before the emotional intern looked at him again.

He made a quick nod over to the wall clock and said, "You are quite the conversationalist Miss Granger, but I'll have to cut this short."

* * *

Hermione snapped her head up and looked at the time; now fifteen minutes past the hour. Had she really gotten so carried away in talking to Dr. Riddle? It was her fault, really. And why did she have to mention his smile at all? It was all an act anyway!

_But he did seem a little disheartened when talking about it. _

_No! No, he didn't! It's called acting, Granger! _

"I'm sorry, sir," she muttered. "I won't get so carried away again."

"I'll see to it myself that you won't," he replied, though not as coldly as she had anticipated. His face actually seemed quite neutral. "Consider your little interview a one-time thing."

After Hermione nodded, Tom placed a pile of new articles in front of her. She read the top of the first page and frowned. _Brain Flexibility: An Overview. _She saw it as somewhat of an improvement from the previous day, but Hermione ached just thinking of what it would be like to actually work in the field alongside Tom. She could only tolerate critiquing the articles for so long.

"Something troubling you Miss Granger?" Tom asked.

Hermione looked at the pile of papers in front of her. _Yes, something is definitely troubling me. _"No, nothing in particular."

Tom nodded. Then he stood straight and began walking towards the door. "Very well then. I have to attend to-"

"Actually Tom," Hermione said suddenly. Then an eerie silence filled the room, and she assumed it to be a signal of Tom's irritation. She found her fingers twiddling together. "Sir…These articles… Are they really that important? Will I ever be able to work in the field with you?"

Tom didn't respond for a lengthy moment. Were his thoughts drifting elsewhere? He never bothered to turn around to face her as he answered, "It's only your second day Miss Granger." And with no further explanation, he hurried out of the room and slammed the door shut.

"Moody," Hermione mumbled, picking up the paper on the top of the pile. As she twirled the pen in her hand, her eyes wandered around the room until they caught the sight of another stack of paper, the same one that lay there on her first day – the one Abraxas had refused to let her even sneak a glance at.

_It's not right to go through his things. _

_Well it's not right to be doing such useless work! _

_It's wrong. _

_It's his fault for leaving it out in the open._

Hermione leaned over the table to get a closer look at the pile and noticed a small sticky note stuck in the far corner of the page. Was that her name written on it? She stood just enough to reach for the first page and saw that it was indeed her name written on the note. Then she peeled the note from the page and read the title underneath: _Evidence of Aluminum Accumulation in Neurofibrillary Neurons_.

"Finally something intriguing!" Hermione said with a huff. She shoved the initial pile of papers aside and began reading through the other articles. While she had still wished for work in the surgery room, these new articles were definitely a step up.

* * *

Another tiring several hours left Tom in the surgery room for practically the entire day . He had managed to step outside the room for a few breaths, but eventually had to head straight back inside to handle an argument between Lestrange and Avery. He hoped the intern's notes would make up for all the nuisances that were his colleagues that day.

As expected, Hermione had left at exactly five o'clock, leaving her work neatly atop his desk. In the center however, was a small cup with a sticky note attached to it. Tom held it up and raised a brow at the message written on it: _Hopefully this isn't cold by now. Enjoy! _

_"_Strange girl," he muttered, setting the cup down. Was this her odd way of trying to earn a job in the surgery room? Tom crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it in the trashcan. He nearly laughed at how silly the note was, until he caught sight of the papers stacked on his desk.

On one side were the original papers from Monday, surprisingly with Granger's notes all over them.

"An overachiever I suppose," Tom mumbled. It was pointless for her to go through those papers at this point, though. So he looked over to the other pile - those were the articles that mattered to him.

And she had left them without a single mark.


	4. Chapter 4: Methods

A/N: So I'll be celebrating the brief end of my midterm week (I have another Chemistry midterm next week already oddly enough) with another update! This story is actually much more difficult to write than I had anticipated, but I'm pretty excited to write the later chapters. :) To be honest, I've never really received detailed critiques of my work before (I've only posted on AsianFanFics and Winglin prior to this) so thank you to everyone who has been providing me with feedback!

* * *

Tom's knuckles turned a frighteningly pale shade as he gripped onto the papers in his hand. They were clean, unmarked, untouched; and it was all wrong. How did the intern possibly get the job with this kind of behavior? Was he not intimidating enough to her?

"The nerve of that girl," he hissed, setting the pages back down on the desk.

A knock on the door sounded, and Abraxas' timid voice called out, "Sir I have a question about-"

"Enter," Tom snapped. As the door creaked open, he made his way towards the locked drawer of his desk and reached for a tiny box inside. It was a glossy wooden box, a beautiful burgundy colour. Coiled around it was a serpent-like mold, meeting at the lock to form the medical symbol – a staff entwined by two serpents and wings.

"Sir I-" Abraxas watched the tiny box emerging from behind the desk with widened eyes. He had always feared the flashy rubies of the serpents' eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Malfoy, how was vial two the other day?" Tom asked. "Did it seem to fulfill its purpose?"

"Y-Yes sir, it was very fitting," Abraxas replied. Then he heard the squeaking of the box's lid and added frantically, "The effects lasted all of that night. It was _very, very _fitting, sir."

"Interesting that you say that," Tom said. "Perhaps I am the one who is mistaken. Do you think I am, Malfoy? Did you really only deserve vial two?"

Tom loved watching the poor soul squirming just under his presence. It really would seem a shame to most that Malfoy, being a few years older, hadn't been able to develop a backbone when it came to dealing with Tom. Not that Tom disliked that fact in any way.

"I…" Abraxas fidgeted with the hem of his scrubs. "I don't know, sir."

Tom drawled out a sigh and reached inside the small box; in it were six vials, all in varying colours, and a seventh empty vial. Tom dragged out his time in choosing one of the vials, much to Abraxas' worry and discomfort. Then after some time, Tom picked up a vial of a faint blue liquid, holding it just deftly between his fingers.

Abraxas's mouth gaped open. "Vial four?" he asked in a choked gasp. Then his brows furrowed together, and a bitter frown crossed his face. "The intern did something, didn't she? What did she do?"

"And what made you believe that it was Miss Granger's fault for this?" Tom said, though his teeth began grinding together out of some force of habit.

Abraxas narrowed his eyes further. "My little slip-up on Monday hardly deserves even vial three!" he complained. "The stupid Granger girl must have done something to piss you off!"

A red glint flashed across Tom's eyes, and he placed the vial back into its place. A sense of pleasure ran through him upon hearing Abraxas' relieved sigh, just before another choke of breath when another, pinkish vial was held in front of him.

"Sir I-"

"Take a sip, Malfoy, go on," Tom said, tossing the glass vial over to Abraxas. "Not too much though – I'll still need you alive for Monday's operation."

Abraxas eyed the pink fluid in the vial and kept back a whimper.

_How pathetic._

"Hurry up, Malfoy," Tom snapped. "Oh, and you are to ensure that Granger finds out nothing of this. She's far more complicated than I expected, so I'll be dealing with her on my own terms."

"So I can't do anything to her?"

"You'll be able to so long as I give you permission, or specific instructions," he replied. "Moreover, should the effects of the solution be too strong, too obvious – and they probably will be – then you are to stay at home."

"But my schedule is-"

"Are you deaf, Malfoy?" Tom hissed. "Stay at home. I'm sure Avery and Lestrange can pick up whatever work you would have offered."

Abraxas nodded with a slight frown. "Vial five," he whispered shakily. Then he took a small sip and watched the malice grow in Tom's eyes.

* * *

Hermione hadn't really thought it through well enough. Yes, the pile of papers did have her name on it, but she had specifically been given a completely different pile. _Oh God, what would Dr. Riddle say?_ She didn't do the damned work assigned to her!

"He'll probably ask for a new intern."

"Ron!" Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend before placing a comforting hand on Hermione's arm. "It was only your second day, Hermione. He can't possibly take your internship away just from one little mistake."

Hermione frowned and swirled the remaining tea in front of her. "I don't know what I was thinking, honestly. There must have been a reason why I never ended up getting the other pile of paper with my name on it. I wasn't supposed to touch them."

Ron cut in, his voice still as bitter as ever, "Maybe the idiot actually does make mistakes."

"No… No, Tom isn't like that…" Hermione muttered, her voice trailing off along with her running thoughts. No, Tom Riddle was much too smart and deceitful to have misplaced a couple of papers. Why would he suddenly choose not to give her those amazing articles and instead give her another pile of Healthcare 101? He had to have been calculating something in his mind… something that seemed to involve her a great deal.

Then Ron's voice came out again, this time with an even sharper tone than before. "Tom," he said.

Hermione, upon hearing the name, looked up from her tea and directly at Ron's angry eyes. "What?"

"_Tom,_" he repeated through gritted teeth. "You called him Tom."

"What? No I didn't."

"It was completely subconscious then, because you even defended the arrogant bastard!" Ron burst out. His hands flew up in the air, his face contorting to one of utter disbelief in Hermione. "What, so now Riddle is too perfect in your eyes to make mistakes?"

"I never even-"

"You kind of did, Hermione," Harry said gently.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as her two friends watched her intently. Had her mind really drifted off that much?

"_It's his eyes,_" Ron said mockingly. Then he clasped his hands together and swayed back and forth. It made Hermione's blood boil.

"Now that's enough!" she hissed, trying not to stir up too much of a commotion. "My head isn't exactly in the clear lately, and you're being absolutely immature, and dare I say, jealous, Ronald!"

Ron didn't offer her any reply but simply rolled his eyes as he poked at his muffin. Hermione wondered just how much the breakup affected him. Out of the three of them, Rom always seemed to be the one to get easily riled up, but since their breakup and Hermione's announcement of her internship he just seemed even more distant.

"Ron," Hermione said softly. She reached out for his hand, but he quickly withdrew from her and crossed his arms. In turn, Hermione sucked in a deep breath and continued, "Please understand that things are just a little difficult for me right now, okay? This internship isn't exactly what I expected it to be."

Harry's face slightly fell upon seeing the distance between his two best friends. "We feel like you've been keeping something from us Hermione, something that's affecting you."

"I need you both to just trust me for now," Hermione replied. "Let me figure things out on my own and I promise I'll let you know. There are just a few things I need to sort out."

"Whatever you're trying to figure out… Is it a danger to you in any way?" Harry asked, his voice wavering a bit.

The look in Harry's eyes always made Hermione feel so guilty. She wished she could tell them everything, from her first intimidating encounter with Tom, to the terrifying moment in the break room. But competing in the medical field required much more independence and strength on her part – both of which seemed to be lacking since she began her internship.

"I don't quite know yet," she answered.

Ron finally spoke again, but as usual, with the same harsh tone, "Hermione!"

"Trust me!" she said, locking her eyes with Ron. Then they travelled to Harry, and she added, "Both of you. Please trust me."

Harry nudged Ron lightly and gave him a nod. Though Ron narrowed his eyes in response, it didn't keep Harry from giving a gentle smile to Hermione. "If that's what you really want."

"Hey 'Mione," Ron then said, sounding much calmer than before. But a tiny smirk formed on his face, and Hermione hated the sight of it. "You're late."

"I am?!" Hermione checked her watch quickly and stood up in a flash. Harry gave her his usual smile, but as Hermione stepped through the door, her heart sank upon hearing Ron mutter to Harry, _Too much Riddle on the mind again._

This internship was driving her mad. It made her stressed, worried, and oddly intrigued all at the same time. So what was she to think of it all? Well for one thing, she'd have to make it to the hospital before Riddle gave her a fit.

Turning the corner to the long hallway of the hospital, Hermione saw Tom heading away from his office and right towards her. She noticed her feet kept scurrying and nearly crashed into Tom in the middle of the hall.

"Sir I'm so sorry I'm-"

"Break room." Tom's words cut through her, and he continued to make his way down the hall without even waiting for her to turn around. Hermione quickly jogged over to fall in line with him, though she stumbled every so often trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

"You're late by the way," he stated.

Hermione looked up at him only for her eyes to meet his tensed jaw, and she swallowed nervously. "I was just apologizing earlier but-"

"Did I ask for an explanation, Hermione?"

"No, but-"

"Then I suggest you keep quiet lest I ask something of you." So she remained silent. Clearly, Dr. Riddle was not pleased, and she had to expect the worst of consequences.

_You have to stay strong, Hermione. _

Why the break room though? They were at outside his office just moments ago, so why the need to walk all the way to that gloomy place?

_Because no one else is allowed in there, idiot._

_No one else will see them._

_No one else._

_Shit._

Tom entered the elevator first, not bothering to usher Hermione in as before. Hermione felt her hands becoming clammy, her feet a little colder, and she hesitated to follow him inside.

_This was all because of those articles? _She dared not to think of what his reaction may be should she do anything worse later on. They were silly articles after all. Now that she had thought about it further, had he not given them to her simply because Dumbledore forced him to give her work?

From the side she could just see a terrible glint in his eye, something she had never seen before. It wasn't like the bitter stares Ron had been giving her lately, no. It was an abnormally composed expression to him, like heaps of anger trapped inside a tiny bomb waiting to explode on her.

Upon arriving at the break room, Tom held the door open and lead Hermione. It came as quite a surprise for her considering his behavior up until that point, until she turned around to find him peeking his head out the door and to the hallway.

_He's ensuring that the coast is clear. _

_No, you're overanalyzing this. _

_I think I'm going to die. _

Then the door slammed shut, and the room filled with that same silence once more.

"Miss Granger, how much do you value this internship exactly?" Tom took a step towards her, only to have Hermione take a step back.

Hermione gulped. "Very much, sir."

"Interesting." A soft hum slipped through his lips, and he was taking another subtle step towards her. "Should you not then, value the rules?"

Another gulp. "I should," she said. But he made no immediate response to her. So on instinct, Hermione uttered but a short phrase that brought about the flashing glint in his eyes, "And I do."

_You must get complimented on your smile. _She had really said those words to him. It was a quite handsome smile in fact. But the smile he had at the moment was filled with underlying hatred and twisted malice – this must be Tom's true smile. The smile that comes on rare occasions, uncommon to most people. And this singling out of the little intern seemed to be one of those rare occasions.

"You do, do you?" he asked. "Tell me then Hermione, what were you doing going through the other papers on my desk? Did I instruct you to do so?"

Hermione's lips parted slightly, though no sound but a pathetic whimper managed to escape. She had to think of a reason quickly – a good, believable reason.

"It had my name on it," she stated. _What are you, five?_

Tom smirked. "It had your name on it," he reiterated. "So if I were to write my name onto your forehead, would you belong to me then? Could I do to you whatever I so desired? It certainly would be interesting, wouldn't it?"

Hermione's eyes widened in contrast to Tom's piercing grey ones. She was reading into all the wrong things, assuming the worst of Tom. He wouldn't actually want to own her, no. But that look in his eyes…they almost looked possessive.

"So what would you think of it?" he murmured, the scent of spearmint hitting Hermione's senses like a brick. Her eyes fluttered for a brief moment as he continued on, "Could I do that to you?"

"Well no but-"

"And why is that, Hermione? Tell me why." He took another step towards her, but Hermione had hit the edge of the table. She hated the feeling of being trapped.

"Because it's wrong," she replied with a stutter.

Tom shook his head, and with a light laugh he said, "It's wrong, is it? But you seem to like doing the wrong things. You love breaking the rules, don't you Hermione?"

"I don't." She shook her head and slightly coward away from him as he took a final step towards her, nearly closing off all the space between them.

"I was disappointed the other evening, Hermione," he murmured. His lips barely moved, and yet Hermione had found her eyes being so drawn to them. Then his hands just lightly brushed her sides as they passed her before setting down on the table.

She could have run. The door was right there, just a few feet away. All she had to do was push through his arms and make a bolt towards the exit. And yet her feet seemed to be rooted right into the floor.

"You actually like seeing me upset, don't you?" Tom's voice was at a mere whisper, as if he were taking in a breath with each word. "Yes, that's why you've been coming late and trying to spite me through our conversations. You're trying to anger me, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione said with a gasp; one of Tom's hands had brushed against the flimsy fabric hanging underneath her blazer.

_Stop that, Riddle. Stop it right now._

She couldn't let him walk all over her. No, she had to say something, anything that would make him reconsider his actions. "Don't touch me. You're…you're disgusting," she uttered, though unfortunately for her it came out as a low mumble.

He smirked at her silly attempt and replied, "You don't ever seem to agree with me." Then slowly, Tom lowered his head and leaned forward until his lips were by Hermione's ear. His breath tickled her skin; warm as it was, it sent a cool shiver throughout Hermione's body. The moment he tilted his head slightly, his lips just grazed Hermione's ear, and she could feel her knees starting to buckle.

Was this his sick way of teaching her a lesson? Was this whole teasing game meant really meant to scare her? Or was he simply trying to embarrass her?

"You keep pushing my limits, you know," he whispered, and Hermione could almost hear a hissing noise as he did so. "What will happen when there's nothing left to push?"

_All I did was read the wrong articles!_

_Really? This is Tom Riddle you're dealing with here._

Hermione then uttered shakily, "You can't hurt me. The word will get out."

Tom fell silent.

So Hermione continued, "Bringing me to this room won't hide any mark you leave on me. If you hit me-"

Then a maniacal laugh echoed through the room, loud enough for the sound to ring through Hermione's ears. Tom finally pulled away, giving Hermione a chance to catch her breath, though not long enough of a moment to settle her rapid heartbeat.

Tom's eyebrows rose, forming humorous creases on his forehead. He found this funny?

"Hit you?" he asked. "You thought I brought you down here to hit you? What were you expecting, a spanking? Dear God, Hermione."

Hermione frowned. Now he was looking at her as if she really were five years old. "But… But why did you have to bring me all the way here then? You even double checked to make sure no one was around!"

"And so your first instinct was to assume that I'd physically harm you in some way, is that it?"

"You weren't exactly being straightforward just a few moments ago," she muttered.

"I'm surprised that you've misconceived my character to such a point," he replied. "I will admit that I get angered quite easily. However, never have I hit a colleague. Even ask Malfoy, Lestrange, or Avery… Actually they haven't expressed much fondness for you, so you'll just have to take my word for it."

_Trust Tom's word? Please._

Hermione really couldn't grasp what was going on. Every encounter with Tom was a wild roller coaster with unexpected loops and turns, and she often found it difficult to keep up with his pace. She needed to find the upper hand. She needed to stop telling herself to compose herself and be strong – she had to actually follow through with her own words.

But where could she possibly start?

"It's easy to make strange judgments what with all of your contrasting moments," she said. "You didn't have to go through such… threatening measures to get the point across that you were upset with me."

"Bringing you down here was merely a scare tactic. I was simply testing the waters," he answered, "To see what methods work best with you. And it seems as though I've already found what is most effective."

Hermione raised a brow. "And what would that be?"

"Well you'll just have to be more observant next time," he said with a smirk, "And I don't doubt that there _will _be a next time, considering the facts."

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, just staring at him. She really was at a loss as to how to respond to him. If he kept changing his attitude towards her within the blink of an eye, how was she to adjust her own attitude? How was she supposed to gain the upper hand?

"So you have a different method of – let's call it disciplining, for modesty's sake – everyone who works under you?" she asked. "What would you do to, say, Abraxas?"

Hermione found an evident smirk on Tom's face again, like he was reminiscing on past events. Like Abraxas had been _disciplined _before, and Tom enjoyed it much more than the average person.

"Well I don't hit him, for one thing," he replied.

"I realize that now."

"Perhaps there will come a time later on in your internship where I'll feel more comfortable in telling you," Tom said. "As of now, you are far too impulsive to be trusted with anything, to be blunt."

"Extremely blunt," Hermione mumbled. "So you're not completely enraged then?"

"I don't appreciate you disobeying me, Hermione." But even as he had said those words, Hermione had trouble in finding that same dark glint in his eyes from before. Was she now to believe _this _version of Tom Riddle?

"But you're not completely enraged?"

* * *

_I'm not completely enraged? Bloody hell, I was furious, you insolent girl!_

"No, not entirely," Tom replied. "Though I did expect for you to do your assigned work."

"Why was my name on the other pile then?"

_So many damned questions…_

Tom ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Either Hermione was excellent at stalling for time, or she was way too curious for her own good. But she kept looking at him in a way that somewhat confused him. She'd be so scared, so timid when he would try and intimidate her, but as soon as she found a point of confusion or intrigue, the questions would never end, and it would seem as if nothing had ever scared her just prior to asking them.

And there she stood, looking so tiny and vulnerable compared to him, but there would be a sense of determination hidden behind her big eyes. Rarely did he find the same expression with his colleagues, if at all - and it meant that Hermione was dangerous. She was indeed intelligent, as shown through the notes she made on his articles. She was determined, so focused on furthering her career in the medical field. She was clever and witty, and often times spiteful whenever she spoke to him. And if he let it happen, she would most probably surpass him one day.

_No, no she can't!_

"Dr. Riddle?" Hermione's voice finally came out firmer, still high-pitched and light, but firmer, more confident. Tom hated it. "Why was my name on the other pile?" she repeated.

"I was saving it for a later date," he lied.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Hermione frowned. "But if I was going to look over the papers eventually, then why-"

"Because I've made an effort to make a proper schedule to best suit your needs and your development in this internship," he said, slipping out a frustrated sigh. "I'll have to adjust certain things now."

"Oh…really?"

"Yes, really. Have I answered all of your questions then?" He caught a subtle nod from her and smirked. "Good. Then-"

"Dr. Riddle!" a hoarse voice called out to him. It sounded familiar, yet the voice was broken, croaky, and barely audible.

_Shit. Malfoy. _

"Hermione you'll have to excuse me for a moment," Tom said urgently. Then he looked over to the coffee machine and said, "Since you're already down here, you can make use of the time and make some coffee while you wait."

Tom rushed out the door, taking a quick look at his watch. Half past the hour – he had lost track of time again. He slipped through the door, trying to keep Hermione's wandering eyes from seeing what could possibly be a hideous sight from Abraxas.

Sure enough, as Tom closed the door behind him, he was faced with a revolting form of Abraxas. Having not properly tested the fifth vial before, Tom hadn't expected the sight before him. Abraxas was covered in lacerations on the surface of his arms, whilst his face looked awfully pale with a slightly yellow tint to it. This couldn't have all been from that tiny sip. It was only the fifth vial!

"You," Tom hissed, "What did you do?"

Abraxas croaked out, "Nothing, sir. The effects just haven't worn off, even over the weekend." Then a pained yelp escaped his lips, and Abraxas hunched forward, bracing his stomach.

"Explain the symptoms – list them off." Tom's eyes wandered over Abraxas' body, searching for any other obvious symptoms - though the skin lacerations were already too telling.

"Skin lacerations on my limbs," he began, pulling up his sleeves to reveal even nastier scratches, and Tom winced at the sight of them, "I had jaundice over the weekend but luckily it's starting to wear off…a dry cough, constant stomach pains… It was just… There was a lot to deal with, sir."

Tom clenched his fists at his sides and glared at Abraxas. "And you didn't think to stay at home?"

"But the operation today-"

"You haven't been following my instructions lately, Malfoy," Tom replied coldly. "Perhaps the intern's behavior is actually rubbing off on you."

Abraxas snorted in disgust, though it brought about a coarse cough that echoed through the length of the hallway.

"Do you realize what will happen now? What people will think when they have a look at," Tom pointed at Abraxas' entire body, "At _this_?"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to-"

"Go home," Tom sneered. "Now."

"But sir-"

"Malfoy," Tom hissed. "Now."

* * *

"Hermione you'll have to excuse me for a moment," Tom said urgently. Then he looked over to the coffee machine and said, "Since you're already down here, you can make use of the time and make some coffee while you wait."

Hermione nodded as she headed to the coffee machine. But as soon as she heard the door open, she leaned backwards to catch a quick glimpse of who was outside.

"Abraxas…?" she whispered to herself. She hadn't been able to recognize him just from the voice earlier, but she was sure it was him as soon as she saw the blonde – though surprisingly now, very brittle and dull – hair through the crack of the door. Just before the door fully shut, she managed to catch a brief picture of his face. Was he… yellow? Or was he pale? Or both? And his skin… those couldn't have been cuts and scrapes all over it, could they?

But if he was so sick, what was he doing at work? _How _did he get so sick all of a sudden? As much as he showed distaste towards her on her first day, there was a pang of worry in the pit of Hermione's stomach. But then it hit her.

_Tom._

'_I don't hit him, for one thing.'_

But if Tom never hit anyone, then what else could he possibly do to keep his colleagues so…obedient?

Hermione looked down and realized her hand had been shaking the entire time; nearly half of the coffee had been shaken out of the cup. After rushing to clean up the mess with some napkins, she took what was left of the coffee and made her way towards the door. As she reached for the handle, she was nearly hit by the door opening, and let out a gasp upon meeting Tom.

Peering just over his shoulder, she was disappointed to find that Abraxas – if it really was him – had already left. "Who was at the door earlier?" she asked, looking down the hall to see if the person was still in sight.

"Abraxas wasn't feeling too well and wanted to make sure I'd be okay with him leaving early," Tom replied. Then he looked down at the half-filled cup in Hermione's hand and raised a brow. "You didn't fill it?"

"I spilled a little of it," she muttered. "I'll make more later if you'd like."

Tom sighed and reached out for the cup. "No need," he said. "My hands will be full all day. I have another important operation to attend to."

"Should I expect you to be back at the office before I sign out?" she asked, hoping his answer would be no.

"Probably not," he replied, though he gave her a curious look. "Go over the articles you missed last week."

"Alright," Hermione said with a nod. She made one more glance at Tom before sliding past him and into the hallway. She made her steps quick in hopes of catching up to Abraxas, though she came to a sudden halt when Tom called out to her.

"Hermione." She stood stationary, keeping her back towards Tom. There was a slight pause before Tom spoke again, "If you happen to run into Abraxas, I suggest staying away from him. Whatever he has could be contagious."

Hermione bit her lip and muttered, "Of course. I'll be sure to steer clear of him."

Then she turned the corner and made a run for it.


	5. Chapter 5: Intuition

A/N: Ah, the past few days have been pretty awful for me... I was in a bit of s slump from school. But here's the next chapter!

* * *

_He does get angered quite easily._

_But never has he hit a colleague._

_It could be contagious, he said. _

_Bullocks. _

Hermione looked over her shoulder every now and then to make sure Tom hadn't decided to follow her. He certainly wouldn't allow her to talk to Abraxas, for reasons other than the one he gave her, but she had to know exactly what Tom was hiding. What was so bad about his other disciplining habits that kept him from wanting to tell her? And if he had managed to do it to Abraxas, what was to say he couldn't do it to her should she anger him later on in her internship?

She finally caught a glimpse of Abraxas' blonde hair moving down the hall towards the exit of the hospital. Picking up her pace, she inched closer and closer to him. It wasn't hard though – the poor thing already walked like a tired zombie.

"Abraxas!" Hermione called. She made an attempt to reach out and grab hold of his arm, but quickly withdrew upon seeing the open lacerations trailing along it.

"Yes Miss-" Abraxas turned around with wobbly legs, and hissed upon seeing Hermione, "You. What do you want?"

Hermione finally saw him in all his disgusting sickness. No, maybe Tom didn't have anything to do with this. He couldn't have possibly caused Abraxas to be in such a poor state, could he? The symptoms were just…

"What happened to you?" she asked. "You look-"

"I don't have to explain anything to you, Granger," he sneered. "You don't deserve my attention."

_Why do I even pity him?_

Hermione took another quick look at his sickly face and nearly gagged. There were a few yellowish splotches on his pale skin, contrasting with the dark red blood clotting around his collarbone. Rude as he was, she had to find out more of Tom's outside work, whatever it may be.

"Did Dr. Riddle do something?" she asked.

"Why?" he snapped.

"Harmless question," she said with a shrug.

"Yeah well it's doing a great deal of harm to me just talking to you right now," he said with a roll of the eyes. "And if Dr. Riddle even sees me here with you then… whatever. I have to go."

Abraxas hugged his stomach with one of his arms as he made his way out the door, only to here Hermione's footsteps trailing behind him.

"Wait!" she said, this time grabbing onto his shoulder.

"Ouch!" Abraxas yelped and swatted her hand off his shoulder. As soon as she released him, he lifted up the shoulder of his jacket and found a faint stain of blood forming through his scrubs. "Fucking hell! Look what you did!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Hermione said frantically, reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief.

"Save it," Abraxas muttered, covering his shoulder again.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip and looked at him nervously. "The lacerations… are they all over your body?"

Abraxas smirked. "Why? Care to have a look?"

_You still manage to be extremely obnoxious even when you're sick. _

Hermione ignored his remark and said, "Tom was being secretive earlier, like he was the one to cause this. He didn't want me to see you in this state – told me not to try and find you."

"So why the bloody hell didn't you listen to him?" he hissed. Then he added, followed by a strained groan, "Just leave me alone, Granger." He glared at her one last time before walking away from her.

"He didn't hit you though, did he?" she asked.

Abraxas stopped in his tracks. Though Hermione couldn't see it, she could practically hear the bitter smirk on his face. "Haven't you heard?" he muttered. "Dr. Riddle has _never _hit anyone." Then he proceeded to walk away, and she finally let him go.

It _had _to have been Riddle – there was simply no other option. It was made quite clear on her first day that Tom had quite the amount of control over any people in the hospital, Abraxas especially. But how could Abraxas have gotten so ill without having Tom lay a finger on him? Perhaps it was an indirect job; maybe the other two nurses would band together against whomever was the troublemaker, so as to keep Tom out of trouble himself.

_But his skin…_

Yes, that awful tint to his skin couldn't possibly have been from direct physical contact. He had to have ingested something. A type of pill? Food maybe? A fluid?

"What are you doing outside?" Hermione jumped at the sight of Tom standing by the hospital entrance.

"Fresh air," Hermione replied, though it sounded as more of a question.

Tom raised a brow in disbelief. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Hermione said in assurance. She placed a hand on her hip and added, "You know, considering how stuffy it was in the break room earlier."

"I'm not in the mood for your spite right now, Hermione," Tom said sharply. Then he peered over Hermione and noticed a sluggish blond walking to the parking lot. He looked back at Hermione, narrowing his eyes at her and said in a low voice, "You talked to Abraxas."

"I didn't," she lied.

"So you didn't catch him walking to the parking lot just now?" he inquired, pointing over her shoulder.

"Oh, is that him down there?" Hermione asked. "Can't even recognize him from here."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Perhaps you should get your eyes examined then," Tom said, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Well you've already seemed to have given me somewhat of a diagnosis the other day, haven't you? Invading my personal space and all," Hermione retorted. Tom's eyes seemed to darken from their usual deep grey to a fierce black, making Hermione fidget on impulse. She hurried her way around him and quickly muttered, "I have to get back to work."

Once she could no longer feel Tom's presence, Hermione slowed her pace before entering his office. There, the pile of papers sat neatly on the desk waiting for her, and she wanted nothing to do with them at the moment.

_Do you want him to get angry again?_

_Do you want him to corner you again? To invade your personal space again?_

_Well, it felt kind of-_

_No!_

Hermione cupped her cheeks in both hands and lightly slapped her senses back to normal. If Abraxas refused to tell her – and Tom certainly wouldn't tell her either – what exactly caused his symptoms, she'd have to take the time to do a little digging.

_You can't just leave the papers blank again, genius. _

"I'll just quickly go over them then," she muttered, quickly scanning through the papers. Article after article she came across similar ideas of common illnesses, conditions related to aging, exercises for brain flexibility. And article after article she wanted to punch her self in the face.

Tom saw the work she did with the articles he supposedly planned to give her at a later date, right? So why couldn't he discard the simpler articles and give her the more challenging ones? How was she to prove she's ready for the surgical room if he won't see her work for its true worth?

After going through all the papers, Hermione checked the wall clock and noticed she had quite the amount of time to spare. It was a few minutes after five, giving Hermione just under two hours to do some investigating. But where was she to start?

_His computer. _

Hermione made her way to the other side of the desk and opened Tom's laptop.

_You're going to get in so much trouble, Granger._

She opened it anyway, brushing off her guilty conscience. But to her disappointment, the only thing to pop up on the screen was a requirement for a password.

_Should've been obvious that he'd set a password._

_Oh, whatever._

Hermione turned the laptop back off and closed it shut. She furrowed her brows and looked around the office for any signs of evidence. She looked through and around the shelves by the wall, looked through a filing cabinet, and found nothing. Then she tried the drawers by his desk, but of course found that they were locked.

"So much for that," she mumbled. "Might as well add some more notes to those articles."

But as Hermione made her way back to her seat, she saw what seemed to be a stain on the floor just by her chair. She crouched in front of it, taking note of its pinkish colour, though it left no scent. It couldn't have been some time of fruity drink if there was no scent; it didn't look sticky either. It was just as if a tiny raindrop had dried up on the floor, seemingly harmless. But knowing how strictly Tom took this job seriously, she doubted he would be so careless as to spill something on the floor of such a clean, almost sparklingly white office. Was Abraxas in here?

Hermione reached into her bag and dug out a tissue. Carefully, she swiped off whatever she could of the dried fluid and folded the tissue before placing it back in her bag. If she couldn't find any direct evidence at the hospital, she could certainly reveal something of this dried fluid at the research labs back in Kingston.

Having found all the clues she could for the time being, she sat back down in front of the papers and narrowed her eyes at them.

_I can't just leave them like this. _The articles definitely did not peak her interest, but Hermione still had a point of her intelligence to prove. Seeing as how she had well over an hour until she had to sign out, she whipped out a pen and continued working on the articles.

"A complete myth…" she muttered, making another marking within the margins. Where was Dr. Riddle even getting these articles? Hermione assumed he simply chose the first result that popped up on his web browser.

* * *

"Scalpel," Tom said, hands already at work with a pair of scissors and tweezers. Then he looked up for a brief moment and hissed, "Today, Lestrange."

"Sir." Lestrange handed him a clean scalpel, exchange a nervous glance with Avery. Tom never looked so tense – though he had never made an error with the vials before. Of course he was aware of the ingredients in vial five, but the extent of the effects was completely unexpected. He watched as Abraxas took that tiny sip. He saw how small it was! Then what went wrong?

"Will Malfoy be alright?" Lestrange asked, earning a painful nudge in the side from Avery. And it was well deserved. For within that moment, Tom's knuckle whitened around the scalpel in his hand.

Tom's grip loosened slightly, though his jaw still tensed. "The player, Lestrange."

"Y-Yes sir," he replied. Lestrange made his way to a small dock on the side counter and searched through a list of songs until he found the exact one that Tom had implied. He closed his eyes, took in a sharp breath, and hit play.

It was a fairly quiet sound, like a smooth hiss, almost inaudible to some. Lestrange and Avery exchanged another glance, still unsure of how to react to Tom's taste in music.

It was an eerie type of noise, echoing throughout the surgery room. Tom seemed relaxed by it, and closed his eyes for a moment, immersing himself into the continuous hissing noise. He muttered a few words, incomprehensible to both Avery and Lestrange, then proceeded with the surgery.

He spoke calmly, his voice almost mimicking the slithering timbre of the hissing noise, "Analyze vial five again. I can finish up the surgery on my own. I'm assuming the potency of one of the ingredients was too high, so pay attention to the concentrations of everything."

"You'll be alright by yourself, sir?" Avery asked.

"You're implying that I can't handle this on my own, Avery?"

"No sir, I was just thinking-"

"Then hurry out, both of you," Tom snapped. "I'll need that full analysis by tomorrow."

The two nurses nodded and exited the room. As the door shut behind them, Tom headed to the dock and turned the volume even louder. He hadn't been on top of things lately – he needed to get his mind focused again. And that certainly wouldn't be done if his colleagues kept around him.

He held another sharp instrument in his hand, carefully working around the tissues of the patient before him. This one wasn't extremely difficult to deal with; all that was left was the stitching.

So why did he do it wrong?

"Shit!" he cursed, dropping metal back onto its tray. Tom looked at the stitching in disgust and would have ripped it right off the woman's body had he not taken a few steps back to settle himself.

This was only the second time he had made a mistake in his entire career. It was a smaller mistake, much smaller compared to the case with young Myrtle not too long ago, but a mistake nonetheless. And any mistake indicated weakness in his eyes.

Tom shut off the dock and let out a frustrated sigh. Bloody hell, he was supposed to be finished in mere minutes, and now he had to start over again!

_I would have done a much better job._

What was that voice?

_If you'd just let me work in the surgery room…_

Who?

_Or are you scared? Are you scared I'll outshine you, Tom?_

Granger. Her impossibly obnoxious behavior and her stupid little remarks and her disgustingly untamed hair and the particular scent of vanilla and-

Fuck.

_She's just a stupid, little intern. _

She can't possibly be a threat to him. _He _had authority over her! _He _calls all the shots!

_It's a shame you don't call the right shots then._

_Your mask seems to be cracking, Tom._

_Oh, pardon me. Would you like to be called Dr. Riddle?_

_Is your ego all better now?_

"Shut up!" Tom hissed. Hastily, he removed the old stitches and worked on the new ones, all the while trying to ignore the imaginary taunts in his head. As his hands worked swiftly with the stitches, he murmured, "She wouldn't even be able to think of those taunts herself."

Saying those words didn't seem to clear his head, however. As soon as he finished stitching up the patient, he called for the patient to be wheeled out of the surgery room.

A short raven came in with a brunette to fetch the patient, both looking eager to see Dr. Riddle for even a brief moment.

"Good to see you, Dr. Riddle," they both said in unison. It was as if they had planned for such an occasion.

"Likewise," he said with a nod.

"You've had to work overtime," the brunette pointed out, though Tom never recalled having told anyone of his exact schedule for the week aside from whom he usually works with. But judging by how excited the nurse seemed, he assumed more than just the two nurses before him had an idea of his hours at the hospital.

"It would seem so," he replied. He began cleaning up his working space, hoping they'd take a hint and wheel the patient outside already.

"Tough patient today?" the brunette asked.

_Pfft, tough. _

The short woman spoke up, nudging the brunette, "No, silly! You clearly saw Avery and Lestrange leaving the room earlier. Obviously Tom- er, Dr. Riddle can handle anything thrown at him."

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss," Tom said, though it was an empty response.

"You can call me Jocelyn," she said, blushing at the sight of Tom's very believable smile.

_You can call me Hermione, if you'd like. _

_No, you're simply Miss Granger, the intern. _

_Why on earth do I even call her Hermione?_

"I'm Bethany by the way," the brunette chimed in. She exchanged a quick glance with Jocelyn before looking at Tom hopefully, and said, "Jocelyn and I were planning on grabbing some coffee later. You're welcome to join us, Tom." She almost looked worried, frightened even, after addressing him as such.

Tom's lips pressed into a fine line, though it softened within seconds. "That's a kind offer, ladies," he said, "Though I've other plans to attend to. My apologies."

"A date?" Bethany asked quite bitterly.

Jocelyn nudged her again and hisses, "You idiot! You can't just ask that."

_God, these two…_

Restraining from rolling his eyes, he said with a gentle laugh, "Not quite. I just have to go over some of the work done by my new intern."

"Hermione Granger?" Bethany asked.

Tom raised a brow. He hardly let the girl out of his office. How did these two seem to know of her already? "You've seen her around?" he asked.

"Most people know of her by now," she replied, slightly annoyed with the new direction the conversation was taking. "In fact, Cedric has-"

"Cedric Diggory," Jocelyn added. "One of the new doctors. You might not have met him yet, but he's quite impressive."

Bethany continued on, "Yes, well, he's already shown interest in the intern. I can't imagine why though. I mean he's 26 and the intern is only, what, 19?"

"She's 21, actually," Tom pointed out, in a more clipped voice than he had anticipated. "Mind you, _I _am only 23 myself."

_And you, my dear Bethany, look well around 30 already. _

"Exactly!" Bethany said, though Tom assumed the nurse had missed his point. "I mean two years is already a big gap, isn't it? I bet even you'd find it hard to find anything appealing about Granger, what with her being so young and immature."

Tom felt an unusual twitch by the corner of his lips.

Then Jocelyn, after giving an approving nod of her colleague's analysis, added, "I don't know why Cedric's already aiming so low. The man's smart and gorgeous, yet he goes for some frizzy-haired schoolgirl!"

_Her hair is pretty atrocious._

"Her hair seems alright when the weather isn't so wet and humid."

_Why the hell did I just say that then?_

"He could at least set his eyes on someone more mature, then," Jocelyn said with a huff.

_Miss Granger is certainly more mature than these two._

"I don't recall gossiping about others to be categorized as mature," Tom said sternly. He enjoyed seeing how easily the two girls retracted from their initial petty behavior and into dumbfounded, embarrassed ones.

"W-We weren't exactly-"

"Oh, but you were," he replied, then after a slight pause, smirked and added, "Jocelyn, is it? And Bethany?"

"Y-Yes sir," they both muttered.

"I don't quite appreciate hearing gossip about my intern," he said.

_Because I will be showing her place on my own terms. _

Then he added, "I appreciate the offer for coffee, though."

Their faces brightened again, much to Tom's dismay. He really wished they would understand the concept of an open gesture.

"Maybe another time?" Bethany asked hopefully.

"If I should find the time," he replied. "Perhaps you should try asking that new doctor, maybe keep him from distracting my intern from her duties."

Jocelyn leaned in towards Bethany and whispered, "Diggory is quite dashing, isn't he?"

"And if his standards are already so low, we'd have a much easier time with him," Bethany murmured. She then turned to Tom and smiled at him. "Well it was nice catching up with you, Dr. Riddle."

_I just met you, imprudent woman. _

As they headed for the door, Tom rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Pardon, ladies, but are you not forgetting something?" he asked. They looked at each other, then at him blankly before he added, "The patient?"

"Ah yes!" Jocelyn said, scurrying over to the woman lying on the table. Bethany ran over to hold the door open, though her eyes never left Tom, now facing his back to them.

"Have a good night, Tom!" Bethany chirped. Then the door clicked shut, and Tom could finally breathe.

"Dear God," he muttered, leaning against one of the counters. He glanced at his watch and narrowed his eyes; the two nurses had kept him until well over half an hour past his hours.

_Mostly talking bullocks about Hermione._

_Idiots._

_No, no! They're right! She's awful and…_

Tom ran a hand through his hair, leaning further back against the counter. Calling Hermione obnoxious would be an understatement, but she was obnoxiously intelligent _though incredibly pompous _and very observant _though often too nosy _and she was the only one seemingly qualified to get work done for him.

But she was dangerous. A simple move and she could easily outshine him. She had made notes on those articles that even he wouldn't have picked up had she not written them for him. But what was that saying?

_If you can't beat them, control them?_

_If you can't beat them, fool them?_

_Probably something along those lines._

* * *

"There. These are much better." Hermione looked at the pile of papers, quite satisfied with her work. She had worked slightly over her scheduled hours, but if Tom were to appreciate the extra effort, then it would only benefit her. As she began packing her belongings, the door creaked open, and Tom entered, with an unusually smug look on his face – that was, until he saw Hermione sitting there.

"Evening, sir," Hermione said.

"Hermione," Tom replied, "You're still here?"

"Er, yes well I wanted to add some more notes to-"

"That's fine then," he said. A long silence followed, and Tom seemed to be peering around Hermione to the desk behind her, his face calculating.

"Something troubling you?" Hermione asked.

Then a small smirk crossed Tom's face, as he offered out to her, "Would you like to join me for coffee, Hermione?"


	6. Chapter 6: Boundaries

**A/N:** Tom just flip-flops like a fish, doesn't he? Let's say that it's due to the _Granger Girl Effect, _or maybe he really means to flop around - yeah, let's go with the latter, for his sake. On another note, I have 3 essays (all requiring completely different formatting and citation styles... seriously) and several assignments due next week as this term comes to an end, so I cannot guarantee a quick update. After November 29 I may be more consistent, though once I finish my exams on December 14, I'll definitely spend more time on these updates.

I'm pretty excited to write the upcoming chapters, though. Things will start picking up from this point on.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed!

* * *

_Coffee? With Dr. Riddle? The man who can't be trusted as of yet? The man who is probably capable of doing the same to me as he has probably done to Abraxas?_

"I suppose."

_Damnit, Granger._

Tom's smirk was replaced with a curious smile that Hermione had not seem to get quite used to. So naturally, she inquired, "But why the sudden offer?"

Tom's face fell slightly, though Hermione couldn't tell if he was just being facetious or not. "I simply aim to have a discussion with you on the work you've done so far," he replied.

Hermione raised a brow and asked further, "And you couldn't have discussed this with me during my actual hours?"

"Well, seeing as how you've already stayed well over your scheduled time, I assumed you wouldn't mind spending your time here for a little while longer," he replied. "Unless of course, you don't particularly like my company."

_What exactly is he playing at right now?_

"To be frank, sir, you haven't exactly been very hospitable since I've started working here," she pointed out, standing from her seat.

"Then maybe we should take this opportunity to change your opinion of my hospitality, Hermione," he replied.

Hermione folded her arms and took a step towards him. After seeing Abraxas' state, and picking up the swab of the pinkish fluid earlier during the day, she had a feeling that Tom had his reasons for being so friendly all of a sudden. She scanned him carefully and asked, "So are we officially on a full-time, first-name basis now, Tom?"

And there it was – the twitch of his lips. Hermione smirked.

"If that would make you more comfortable in my presence, then I suppose," he answered. "Though I wouldn't expect much more out of me if I were you."

_Oh, he's definitely hiding something big._

"You want me to be more comfortable?" Hermione asked, taking another small step forward.

"To an extent."

"In that case, in regards to working in the surgery room-"

"And that would be reaching my limits," Tom said with a sigh. "So about that coffee?"

"I already agreed."

"Then why the need for an interrogation?"

"I had to make sure of something."

"And that would be?"

_That you can't be trusted._

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing of great importance."

_Another point for you, Granger._

Tom's lips pressed into a hard line, though he gave her a courteous nod. "Very well then. So where shall we go?"

"Beg pardon?" Hermione asked. Wasn't Tom the one to offer her coffee? "For…coffee, right?" she asked.

"You'll have to give me the name of a place, Hermione," he replied. He noticed her still dumbfounded expression and smirked. "Surely you didn't think I was referring to a date in the break room."

_A date?_

_Oh, calm down, Hermione. There's really nothing else to call it._

"Were you?" Tom asked. Then with a light laugh, he said, "Really, Hermione. First you see me as an abusive hitter, and now you think I'm much too cheap to afford coffee for my intern?"

"Well no, but-"

"Then where will I be driving us?"

"Uh…" Hermione couldn't believe it. This was all too absurd! But even if Tom had his motives for being so nice to her, she could certainly use his kindness to her own advantage. He might even go so far as to tell her about what he did to Abraxas. She noticed his anxious stare and forced out a smile. "I actually know a place."

Tom, seeming to grow impatient, replied, "I figured as much. Do you want to tell me where?"

"It's a cute café, very vintage," Hermione said. "You'll love it."

Tom didn't seem too intrigued by her description of the café, slightly dampening her mood. Then he held the door open for her and made a polite gesture. "You go on ahead and wait for me by the front entrance. I just have to double check something before I lock the office."

* * *

"Seatbelt," Tom said, adjusting his own.

Hermione's lips pressed together into a thin line. "I know," she said. "My need to take public transit in no way means that I don't know how to wear a seatbelt." But as she yanked on the buckle behind her, she jerked backwards as the belt caught in its socket.

"Having trouble?" Tom asked as he stifled a grin.

Hermione yanked at the belt again and grunted. "I think it's stuck."

Tom shook his head and smirked. "You're better suited for public transit, it seems." Then his hand made its way around her, taking the belt buckle from her hand and securing it by her side. He shot her an amused look, watching the embarrassment flood her cheeks. "You have to be gentler with these newer models. If you yank on it, you mimic the motion of being thrust forward like in a car crash, and the belt won't-"

"I know. Seatbelts are like that even in older models," Hermione snapped. "I was just in a hurry."

"Why? I'm the one driving."

"Can we just go?" Hermione said with a sigh. "I plan on resting early tonight."

Tom smirked. "Of course."

A long silence followed, more so from Hermione's unwillingness to even glance at Tom. She would catch him trying to look at her through his mirrors, to her slight amusement, though he'd quickly avert his attention back to the road.

_And he wanted to discuss work. Bullocks. _

"I hope you don't find my silence to be rude, Hermione," Tom finally said, though his eyes remained on the road. "I'm much too used to driving alone."

"Why? Have you never taken your family out for a ride?" Hermione asked. "Too worried they might spill something in your car?"

Tom, with an emotionless mask, responded, "They're both dead."

"Oh…" _Oh. _No parents around to see him succeed? No one to appreciate all his hard work over the years? Hermione thought about her parents, and how supportive they both were of her dreams of becoming a doctor. "I'm so sorry," she muttered.

"I don't need the pity, Hermione, really," he said, sighing heavily. "It was inevitable."

"Were they both ill?" Hermione could hear the slight shake in her own voice.

Tom seemed to think long and hard on the topic, narrowing his eyes at the road in front of him. Hermione assumed that he wanted to avoid the topic, that maybe it was too personal for him to discuss. But suddenly, he said, "Mum passed on when I was born… My father left when my mother was pregnant, though I've heard of his death through word of mouth."

"No other family?" Hermione asked.

"I have an uncle, though he was of no paternal figure to me," he replied. "Actually, he was sent to prison during my first year in university. He was a little on the murderous side apparently."

_How awful was this man's childhood?_

"Why are you so open to telling me about this?" she asked.

Tom shrugged, though he still seemed concentrated on something. "I associate discussing personal matters with a more comfortable relationship, don't you?"

_Ah, he did say he wanted me to feel more comfortable._

_Right. Talking about his murderous uncle is surely comforting._

Hermione's silence brought about a smirk from Tom. "No further inquiries?" he asked. "You might as well ask about my sex life at the rate you're going."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _There's the Tom I've grown to dislike._

"Well that'd make for a much shorter conversation, wouldn't it?" she replied. "Not much ground to cover there."

Tom's lips curled up to a crooked grin as he said, "You think I haven't accepted any of the generous offers of my female colleagues?"

"You're much too uptight," Hermione said with a subtle grin. "And I have confidence in the idea that none of your female colleagues have caught your attention yet."

"I see that you're taking advantage of the fact that we're out after hours, and that Dumbledore, nor any of the other workers are around to hear you," he replied. "You're very ambitious with your questions and comments, when away from authority."

"Was that a null to my hypothesis?" she asked.

"You seem to be quite passionate about this subject, Hermione," he replied. "But I must say, the nurse that we met the other day gave quite the sight."

Hermione recalled the run-in that day, and remembered the very neutral look on Tom's face as the nurse spoke to him, cleavage and clingy clothing and all.

_What a liar._

"Shame she didn't catch enough of your attention that you forgot to ask for her name."

She could see the flare in Tom's nostrils, and the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Where was the café again?" Tom asked. Hermione noted the irritation in his voice and grinned.

_Take on another point, Granger._

* * *

Hermione suggested a small café on the way back to Kingston, much smaller than Tom had anticipated. Though it was understandable – the girl was probably still up to her chin in student loans, and he wasn't expecting an aristocratic air to the campus coffee shop.

After a frustrating time of trying to find parking around the small campus (and coming to the sad conclusion of having to park in an alleyway), Hermione lead Tom to Honeydukes, a café and sweets shop just down the street from her residence building. Through the tainted windows, he caught a glimpse of the bright colours of the walls and furniture, the jars of candy arranged along the sweets counter, and the potential cavities waiting for them amongst the desserts on display.

Tom read the old sign, in all its cracked-paint glory, and scoffed, "Honeydukes? Classy."

"I think it's cute," Hermione said with a shrug.

"So are puppies, to most people," he replied, "But you wouldn't find a coffee shop called the Puppy Café."

"Actually, I think that sounds-"

"Never mind," he said, rolling his eyes. "I forgot that while you're intellect is most impressive, you still have the mind of a young college girl – I'm assuming you may even have a collection of young adult fiction amongst your science textbooks."

Hermione didn't seem to catch the latter of his statement and asked with a hopeful smile, "You think I'm really smart, Tom?"

Tom was taken aback for a moment. _Did you not here the former, Granger? _"Dumbledore seems to think so."

"And what about you?" she asked. There was a sudden glint of determination in her eyes, as if that single statement had been something of which she was waiting for a long time. There was her usual air of confidence, of pride, but she definitely looked much more hopeful.

_Get on her good side first, I suppose. Then take her down._

"I believe I've given you a similar compliment before, Hermione," he replied. "And again, you should know that I don't throw-"

"You don't throw around compliments so easily. Yes, I recall," she said. Then her eyes flickered for a moment before looking at him again. "But you _did_ give out another rare compliment. You've acknowledged it again! So…"

"So?"

Hermione bit her lip. "So does this mean I'm closer to working in the-"

"Stop," he said abruptly.

"But Tom-"

"In time, Hermione." Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You'll come to realize that the work you're doing now is of equal, if not greater importance."

_Help me complete that seventh vial, and maybe I'll consider your request. _

He smirked subtly.

…_No I won't._

* * *

Hermione puffed her cheeks and blew her bangs away from her face. "Fine," she huffed out. It really seemed like a lost cause at that point, trying to convince Tom that she'd be an excellent asset to their surgical team. It seemed that no matter how much Tom wanted to prove his hospitality to Hermione, giving her that position in the surgery room was a strong limit for him. Perhaps if she threatened to reveal his secret regarding Abraxas, he'd reconsider.

She just had to find out exactly what that secret was.

She folded her arms and asked sharply, "So are we going to go inside then?"

Tom furrowed his brows. "Are you going to keep that bitter look on your face?"

_Are you going to do to me the same thing as you did to Abraxas if I do?_

"Perhaps," she replied. "Maybe if you order a really good dessert for me, I'll reconsider." Then she flashed a sheepish grin, getting an eye-roll out of Tom. If he was the one to offer her coffee, why not take advantage?

_You seem to enjoy taking advantage of situations a lot lately._

_Influenced by Tom, perhaps?_

"I only recall offering you coffee," Tom said.

"I recall you being a top-earning surgeon."

"There's such a thing as student loans."

Hermione took a quick glance at his car parked in the alley. It was a black, sleek sports car, somehow sparkling even in the darkness. It certainly looked expensive for a 23-year-old – or anyone, rather.

She smirked. "With you owning that car? I don't think the word _loans _is even in your vocabulary."

"Is this flattery or mockery?"

"However you interpret it. I just want dessert."

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "You're a handful, Hermione." He held the door open for her, earning a few loving stares from the college girls already inside the café. Hermione then lead him inside, trying to ignore the sudden burst of murmurs and chatter throughout the small place. It was quite obvious that the sudden topic of conversation was on both her and Tom, though she didn't completely dislike the envious looks on most of their faces.

"It's far less…relaxing than I had expected," Tom said, taking a quick glance around the room.

"Technically it's your fault – _you're_ the renowned surgeon in a café full of aspiring medical students," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

"And you don't think my being here with a young college girl peaks their interest even more?" he retorted.

"_Two years," _she drew out. "That's it."

Her statement seemed to make Tom uncomfortable. _Good, _she thought. Tom cleared his throat as he took a seat at one of the round tables. "Regardless, I'm here with _someone. _It's not exactly a common sight."

A cheeky smile crossed Hermione's face as she sat across from him. Poor Tom hasn't had a date in a while then? That seems to disprove his earlier statement on his love life. Perhaps he thought of himself as too perfect to date anyone. "Ah, so the attractive young surgeon never goes on dates?" she asked, exaggerating a gasp.

_I just admitted to finding him attractive._

_Point deduction for Granger._

"I do," he replied, "Just not with interns."

Hermione could feel her expression fall, as if she'd just been slapped in the face. But she didn't understand why she felt even that little bit of hurt. She was, after all, only an intern to him. He barely even cared about her career as it was.

"It was a joke, Hermione," Tom said with a sigh.

"It certainly didn't sound like one," she muttered.

"You might want to look into dry humour," he replied. Then he smirked, and leaned forward to try and catch Hermione's eyes that were clearly avoiding him. "Are you jealous, Miss Granger?"

Hermione snorted. "Why would I be? Besides, there's a word going around that someone in the hospital seems to be attracted to me. I think his name is Cedric-"

"Diggory," Tom gritted out. "I've heard – quite a silly rumour, I might add. It was spread by a couple of immature nurses."

"How are you so confident that it's a silly rumour?" she asked. "You need factual evidence before you can prove it to be right or wrong."

Tom's jaw tensed as he stared at her. "You're treating this as if it's some sort of scientific experiment, when in reality it's just obvious gossip."

"You seem to be quite passionate about this topic, Tom," Hermione said with a smirk.

"I just don't want your love life to distract you from your duties."

"Which seem to only include reading over articles on headaches and avoiding common illnesses," she scoffed. "I think I have time for a love life, if I want."

Tom's lips pressed into a hard line, and he abruptly stood from his seat. "I'll go order our coffee," he said sharply. He made his way over to the front counter of the café, ignoring the murmurs and whispers about him.

Hermione looked at him for a good while, still unsure of what to make of this entire situation. She saw the real Tom, hadn't she? And he knows that she has seen it too! So why was he making such an effort to turn this doctor-intern relationship around?

_Or maybe he just has a softer side._

_You're out of your mind if you think that, Granger._

Hermione's phone sounded, and a message from Ron appeared on her screen.

**[Ron: Are you running late? Harry and I haven't seen you around campus.]**

Hermione looked at Tom and chewed on her lip.

**[Hermione: Don't wait up for me. I'll be back in a little while.]**

**[Ron: Well, Harry and I are heading to Honeydukes in a few minutes. You can meet us there later if you want.]**

_What?! No!_

Before Hermione could text him back, Tom had already returned with a tray of coffee and cakes. Two tall mugs of coffee with foam up to the brim, and one large plate with nearly half of the entire menu of pastries on it.

"I thought you said to only get coffee."

"Did you not say you'd remove that bitter face of yours if I buy you dessert in addition to the coffee?" He set the tray down and added with a sigh, "Besides, I didn't order all of this. That woman by the counter seemed quite eager to give me some extra desserts." As they both looked over at the woman by the counter, she leaned forward and smiled flirtatiously, seemingly to only be waving in Tom's direction. Hermione rolled her eyes again. Why was everyone so willing to fling them selves at Tom?

_Why do you care, Granger?_

_I'd just rather keep my lunch down, much like that nurse's cleavage the other day. _

"I'm not surprised," Hermione mumbled. Annoyance aside, Hermione remembered the recent text message from Ron and bit her lip nervously. They couldn't find her here with Tom Riddle! "Could we maybe eat these elsewhere?" she asked him suddenly.

"Like where? My car?" he asked as a light chuckle slipped out.

_Anywhere except here._

_Why? Aren't you proud to be here with the amazing Tom Riddle?_

_Oh shut up._

She looked at him sheepishly. "Maybe?" she replied.

"You're joking," Tom said, his brows furrowing. "Really Hermione, you are absolutely-"

"You were right earlier. The noise is pretty bothersome," she said abruptly. She gave him a more pleading look, bringing her lower lip forward to make an obvious pout.

"You're trying to use stereotypical girlfriend tactics on me," he noted, pointing at her lips. "You find that effective?"

"It's worked with my ex-boyfriend from time to time."

"Might I emphasize the _ex _part of that statement."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, a heavy breath escaping her lips. So maybe he had a point – maybe it was wrong to pout and whine and manipulate to get one's way. But he does the exact same thing, does he not?

_That doesn't mean you should follow his influence._

_Or are you that desperate to be like the great Tom Riddle?_

No, she couldn't be around him for this long. Taking the time to listen about his personal life would only make things worse in addition to the constant arrogance that surrounded her every day. On top of all of that, she had to worry about maintaining her friendship with Ron and Harry, who already seemed to oppose her even working near Tom Riddle. She had to stick to only seeing him during her scheduled hours. So she stood abruptly, roughly grabbing her bag with her and turned around. "I'm leaving."

"Hermione," he said, though it came out much gentler than Hermione anticipated.

"It was a mistake to see you after hours," she replied, her back still facing him.

Tom stood up as well and made his way towards her. "You're acting as if we're part of some giant affair or scandal."

_If Ron and Harry catch us like this, we might as well be. _

She didn't answer, so Tom added with a sigh, "I just don't like the way you're treating me right now."

That surely caught Hermione's undivided attention. She finally faced him, mouth gaped open, eyes widened. "You don't like the way _I'm _treating _you?"_

"I don't."

"You're the one who has been treating me like crap since I started working for you," she hissed. "What with all the constant belittlement, calling me your little intern, underestimating my capabilities, making me your personal barista, manipulating me, making me think you're an admirable surgeon one moment and then a psychopathic sadist the next-"

"That escalated quite quickly," he said, trying to suppress a laugh, but to no avail. "You admire me? A, what was it? A psychopathic sadist?"

Hermione didn't respond. She simply glared at him once more before turning her heel towards the door. She didn't hear footsteps for some time, enough for her to get a good distance away from the café and from Tom. But moments later, the sound of squeaky shoes echoed behind her, and she hastened her steps on instinct. As the sound heightened, Hermione groaned and turned around.

"Listen Tom-"

"Hermione?" There stood Ron and Harry, eyes widened upon hearing Tom's name being said. And behind them stood Tom Riddle himself, his signature smirk mocking Hermione's newfound discomfort.

"Hey," she muttered, ignoring a very smug Tom standing behind her two friends. A look of guilt plastered itself across her face – the unwanted spotlight was on her. "How long have you two been following me?"

"We turned the corner heading to Honeydukes and just saw you, actually," Harry replied. "Is everything alright?"

_No._

"Yeah. I'm fine," she said, averting her eyes away from Tom, who was still smirking.

Then suddenly, Tom began walking towards her, a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag in another, and upon reaching within a foot of her, held both out in front of him. Hermione gave him a stern look, as if to ward him off, but he wouldn't budge from his position.

"You were in quite a hurry to leave our outing," he said, loud enough to shock the ears of Ron and Harry. "I had to take some time to pack everything up for you, but you ran off so quickly."

He then handed her the bag and coffee, and Hermione took it hesitantly, keeping a careful eye on her friends' reactions.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"I trust that we'll have a make-up date then, Hermione?" he asked courteously.

Ron, with his eyes nearly springing from their sockets, marched over to the tense pair and reached for Tom's shoulder. "You stay away from her you arrogant-"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. Before she could reach for Ron's trembling hand, Tom had already taken hold of it, and pried it off his shoulder.

"Quite the rough one, aren't you?" Tom asked as he turned to face Ron. "Are you the ex-boyfriend by any chance?"

"Tom stop," Hermione pleaded.

But he gave her a subtle smirk. "It was a harmless question, Hermione."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "What have you been telling him?" he hissed. Seeing Hermione trying to prepare an answer, he lifted his hand and scoffed, "Never mind. Let's go, Harry."

"Oh come on Ron," Harry replied. "Maybe-"

"Harry," Ron snapped. "Let's go."

As Ron brushed passed Tom and Hermione, Harry jogged over to the baffled girl, his face flooded with guilt. He placed a comforting hand on her arm and mumbled, "Sorry, Hermione. Ron's still a little-"

"I know." Hermione nodded as she covered Harry's hand with her own. "I'm sorry too."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked. And as Hermione nodded again, he smiled softly and ran off to catch up to Ron.

Hermione couldn't keep this guilty feeling from flooding through her, like everything has been spiraling down because of her, and her alone.

_But it's all because of Tom!_

_Is it, really?_

_It is! He's manipulative and selfish and sneaky and-_

_And it seems to have gotten him this far in his career, hasn't it? It'd be nice to try it some time._

_No!_

"I'm surprised you decided to date the rowdy freckled boy over that collected - though perhaps a little passive – one," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Ron was only like that because you were here," Hermione sneered.

"It's my fault that I came to deliver the food _you_ left behind just moments after we arrived at the place _you _lead us to?"

"_You're _the one who offered to go for coffee in the first place!" Hermione then threw her hands in the air - coffee and paper bag still in each one - and let out a frustrated groan.

"You could have turned down my offer."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And then what?" she snapped. "Oh right, I'd lose the internship because you'd get annoyed with me as you always do. Or maybe you'd do to me the same thing you did to Abraxas!"

_Shit._

_Where are the facts to back up that statement, Granger?_

She braced herself for his reaction, but aside from his tensed jaw, no outburst came. No threatening look crossed his face – he was scarily composed.

"You think I did _that_ to Abraxas?"

Hermione's reply came out as a soft stutter, "I don't know. I had a strong feeling you had some contribution."

Tom leaned forward, his dark features accentuated by the shadows on his face. "Then you may want to get a better handle on your feelings, Hermione. Or at least find some solid facts to go along with them," he murmured. Then he straightened up, adjusting the collar of his coat as he said, "Goodnight."

Hermione watched him walk away until only his shadowy figure remained visible. Sighing to herself, she took a step in the direction of Honeydukes and hesitated before she turned around and made her way back to the campus. She had one too many slip-ups that evening, many of which came from her uncertainty of Tom's true character - she _needed _to find out what was in that pink fluid as soon as possible.


End file.
